The Horizons, under my balcony, are
bearing the superior lights of the city,
where nobody sleeps.
This place, where metals and bones,
concrete and blood were mixed
to erect a sanctuary for all
bad and good, this planet remembered.
On purpose all born naturally
are equipped with both rectipetality
and self-hatred.
In this compact universe several
techniques are extraordinarily important
for those who want to live and to die.
Settled Red, Green, Blue
are the colours of breathe mechanics.
And every breath is a prayer
And every breath is vital
Morose asphalt, made of souls of those,
who coddled the Earth till the comet's arrival
is a firm jacket for the lawbook.
And every law is a legacy
and every law is deadly.
My eyes are becoming upturned binoculars
And Now things around are frustrated.
Naked houses, drunken street lamps,
pained prophets are going mad,
beating down the sun,
waiting for it's reverse.
And against a background of all these
we are the lost scenery
set up for making cheap resurrections
every time our minds and hearts awake.
Oblivion is the word, the horizons under
my balcony whisper...
wobbling, the moon rises at the top of the hill.
This world is over.
This world begins.
