A song after the others, the flowing moving tittilating tempos.
As the days passes one after another.
Like a Mercedes Benz speeding into the highways,
Yourself in a transit,
bad trips, ,
the rendevouz stops,
The entrances to a new route, new exits,
It is never you but a phantoum,
Speeding into a crush and dead ends,
as the loud radio on the dashboard,
Mesmerized you into a speeding exhilarition, ,
A sovereign in your own space,
With his little house and a wife and some sons and daughters.
But nothing is yours on this holiday,
Just like the dreams,
Just like the songs.
The clear suns,
The dimmest of lights.
Like the passings of days in the speeding car,
This pleasantest of days, the sometimes unpleasanest of the notorius day.
The hiphop songs, these popsongs,
The riddled images of the trip.
The car trips, the journey into the days,
Into this highways of songs,
in this speeding fastMercedes.
Theghoulie rides into the winds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem