El cono del encono

And useless is to wonder how, scream or whine in this cono del encono. In this strange building of life, all doors and illusory plans.

Because, if you don't know it by now, whoever is born into it, is forced to circulate in its schizophrenic rotonda
and that's the circulation of the perpetual routine without a way out

into this, the tunnel of false hope, where the light at the end never appears.


And useless is to dream, cry or wonder why in this cono del encono. This beautiful building of godly hate fueled by you and me.

Because. Because, if you didn't realize, by now, you are a prisoner of the cone, as I am
and the days behind these crystals are programmed in their safe and odious sameness bis zum bitteren ende

into this cone of deceptive hope, where the light at the end has been (con)sealed for ever.