Out in this dismal space
I opt to lead the race
With comets to some place
Glazed eyes, tears on the face
Cleaning the melted metal
Threw away the mental
Drifting slowly and sentimental
Trying thy best not to be fatal
In this morbid open blackness
I am carrying my own mess
Hate being looked down a little less
Existence is just here to help, i guess
Stars collide in the blue morning sky
Finished daydreaming about Hispanic pie
All i want to do is to satisfy
Urges of the soul that is high
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem