The streets are on fire,
and lust fills the air,
while we work to death
to kill the time.
The highway is littered
with tarnished dreams,
while the masses march on,
illusioned to their purpose.
And our celluloid heros
give us the life of our dreams,
while we try to forget this world,
where we all lose
except in our minds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem