There's something somewhere, and it's not here
There's a dualistic dream in my head
Which one
There's a crumbled world in here too
In here you can't deny
There's a drunken whore who's far older than she says
Older than time itself
There's a man in a suit
Black
White
Nothing's in between
It hurts but his suit will have to fit him
He's heart
Pieces of meat who's always been dead
Rotten, smelling
Pieces of sheets in dreams on which he feeds
No synchronisation with the woman of ages
Although through their combined effort
They always convince themselves that it is not so
It always feels so wonderful
But there's something somewhere, and it's not here
I can't get a grip
Too much confusion lately
Too many intersecting planes
No peace, no breath
All still
The most important one in the world
Won't accept the suit
Won't undress him
It's probably all her alcoholic slamming the table
It's probably that glass
That touch
Too twisted, too weird
Too wonderful
Too many deformations
Too little acceptance
Too much paranoia
And when it's all over
Do you hate him?
Does it hurt him?
Is it what you want?
If there's something somewhere, and it's not here
Then tell him
After all he's the storyteller
It would loosen his clothes for a while
And then
Aaaarhh