[A bus of kids repair their toys]
A bus of kids repair their toys,
and some throw coins at a wall.
The hologram trees, not the whole,
only the good
a degree would have you suppose.
I thought about the meaning of life,
I walked into a wall
to throw coins and repair toys at.
I walked into a room
of people and pieces,
great and nice things.
some of them barely nice.
I won't say their names.
I calculated everything that was there,
and went somewhere new
for better acoustics.
I close the blown glass door
into someplace warmer;
you had followed me three days
stuck with slogans and awful music
that'll stick until you're fit to live.
I won't say your name.
Friends are tearful too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dude i was reading this and the music i was listening to went right along i love this poem