With the weight of a failure of a whole generation,
we come back,
we come back to our outlawed ages
and we see a man with a banjo; playing a song of transience.

The sun is erased with maroon dissemination,
we have some whiskey, we talk about art, we talk to be completed and we go for a walk through empty streetlights to be touched by the ancient existentialism,
right there on that walk we see a man with a flute; playing a song of valor and sacrifice.

The darkness outside; shimmers along the radiation of a erect species,
we sell skins to our desire, we make hippie sex, we groove inside our own ideas of being mammals,
a man plays a piano in his wet night and he sings a song of ejaculation and cosmology.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Google.