A man with general madness,
goes to the zoo to find dinosaurs.
Go to your home man, the baby is crying for infinity.
His life; full of paranoid people, creative people, prophets…floating with bohemian kites.
Go to your home, your baby is gonna fall for psychedelic high.
He makes love with every brown eyes and unmasked skins,
he finds shops, mazes, web full of transient legs blooming in this war less, depression less soil.
Go to your home man, baby needs some spirituality or some colossal songs.
He is breathing for some weeds and some tranquility and mute sex,
and a night full of dreaming smugs, transparent whores laughing and loving their intangible lives.
Go to your fucking home man, your baby needs a womb to collect this soul.