***

Phantasmagoric images rule my imagination
They fuse and blend and burn my brains
And make me feel insane

I see the grotesque of today and notice its perfection
Reality is someone’s puzzle
That gives us fear and pain

We dice with death like butterflies that always play with fire
And shuffle cards with sacred hope
To see tomorrow’s dawn

We swear that somewhere in the sky we hear the angels’ choir
But we don’t dare to confess
That time of tales has gone

It’s really better to be deaf than listen to the promise
That everything will be alright
And we’ve still got a chance

I blast my stereo and keep on living in my earphones
To save myself from glamour, trash
War, peace and all that jazz.