You wake up and you walk across the room, you get to the door
you've been there before, wondering what you've got up for.
All the century superangels shine in your fresh-hot morning coffee
the TV screen it's a bidet on fire, the guy who reads the news started levitating but his pants stayed on the chair, while the leaders of the world throw their heavy credentials each other at the head in the Unicef, or in the United Nations, I'm not sure.
Out there, the rain and the cold are like a rude insult in German.
It's raining 80 year-old woman's ass soup.
The acetone smell whispers all the silenced words, its whispers are deafening, like the prophet Ezekiel among the desert dunes.
the TV screen it's a bidet on fire, the guy who reads the news started levitating but his pants stayed on the chair, while the leaders of the world throw their heavy credentials each other at the head in the Unicef, or in the United Nations, I'm not sure.
Out there, the rain and the cold are like a rude insult in German.
It's raining 80 year-old woman's ass soup.
The acetone smell whispers all the silenced words, its whispers are deafening, like the prophet Ezekiel among the desert dunes.
At times...at times you wonder if there will be, if still there are Mondays like those to expect...
those sunny and dry Mondays, when the bus used to smell like Axe deodorant.
Iron Mondays.
Like a pearl found on the street of the days.
At times...sometimes I wonder if there will be, if still there are Mondays like those to expect
those sunny and dry Mondays, when the bus used to smell like Axe deodorant.
Iron Mondays.
those sunny and dry Mondays, when the bus used to smell like Axe deodorant.
Iron Mondays.
Like a pearl found on the street of the days.
At times...sometimes I wonder if there will be, if still there are Mondays like those to expect
those sunny and dry Mondays, when the bus used to smell like Axe deodorant.
Iron Mondays.
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