And thus I don’t know
if I should write to you or cry.
Cause when my sorrow drains,
my final tear is shed,
...
Jazz is cool
and you are a fool
if you don't like some fuzz by the pool
in a sleazy bar in Liverpool.
...
What can I write about her?
I could use my feelings like myrrh,
I could attempt my thoughts to spur,
but I would err myself pointlessly,
...
'The centre of all things zen'
read the city guide in front of me.
I summoned my soul and recited a mantra
but the gods were still sad,
...
And so the day turned,
grasping the quarter of the year,
the newborn, from its hair.
...
The day had grown
and a wicked night
in the darkness of his eyes
had stained his life.
...
The time has come again
when the light
hides in its shadow
when grey
...
As our years go by
the beers get dry
and bitter,
litre after litre of solid tears.
...
The fate's warning
is warming
my desires, through her lonely eyes,
the black curtains' stars lies,
...
Time bend,
and the night
became long and white.
...