The morning light blinds me completely while the
King lizard sings on the radio, the coffee spills a little
In the kitchen while the apathy invades me when I leave the
House, I dance and I always like the cigarettes, I look for the cigarettes
And the portfolio to start another unfortunate day of the new millennium,
I find myself in a place of the nothing of whose name
At this moment it gives me the cue to remember, me
I move firmly like Bruce Lee and with Latin son
Given that I am not a gringo, nor a poet, nor a good musician
Or a Coelho selling verborrea manuals for beings
Without soul following to the letter of psychomagia manuals
Charged to 500 euros by a certain Jodorowsky.
It's eleven in the morning and I'm drinking a beer,
And I tell a guy not to be scared, that the reality is
Stupid and untouchable, he laughs with malice on his face,
Enjoying the corrosive and universal human anxiety.
I walk down the street looking at a herd of mistresses
From home, workers full of dust and hunger, from something
More apart from rum, green light to commit suicide, red light
To wait for it, and yellow light to think it. This is how we function
Like small soap bubbles bursting with
The fury with which the lambs walk directly
Towards that fictitious space that is the sea of ignorance.
thank you Fer