it's all wrong

the house you live in.

the job you do.

the woman you sleep with.

the way you think.

it's all wrong.

 

::: impro  :::

tears

would you like to live in trieste?

would you love?

would you lie less?

and the end woud be the end.

i do not want to live

in this country of eternal returns.

exit. the visual quality of denial.

of truth. of love which will be never fulfilled.

::: broken ::::

silent walks

it is going to rain from now on. endlessly, mercilessly.

 

::: fall all over :::

i have no soul

i have no soul.

i have no dreams.

no day follows after this one for me.

barb wires, second hand cameras. there's no safety in these matches. and innocence is just a blown cover. my city is in ruins that have yet to surface. oh sure, meanwhile, i will settle in my cave and i will choose the right soundtracks for my pathetic tragedies. because you forgot to tell me where the night is.

i have no soul.

i have no soul.

and i am happy as fuck.

 

::: there was something in the air :::

torn:apart

shadows and sirens on the meadows of my blue pupils. from six to eight a.m. the walls of berlin they just churn in front of them you almost forget the bitterness of prague this holy city you cannot swallow only the mediocre shall survive this hell of too much love the cranes crave for gravity the scapes towering above this frail fabric eleven at twelve, ten bruises fear excentricity everyday to forever called up for war that never took place

 

::: russia:germany :::