The water in my bathroom is getting colder,
The radiators are cold, as the wind is –
And it’s so typical for our spring.
But rooms are worse than prison
And looking like cells.
But in all that surrealistic chaos
I can rule the words again –
And isn’t it amazing?
I don’t have to do many things
I don’t have to eat or get drunk,
But what will we talk about?
Nothing.
So I’m not your ideal
And you will never accept my god,
Neither of wheat, nor of grapes,
As I accept nothing common.
If putting the shell to your ear,
You’ll gear the sound of the sea.
But the same affect is given by just a glass.
And what’s the difference?