At the purgatory bar leaning at the counter
a few angels of ill repute ,
taken from old crime series
smoke lucky strikes ...
The jukebox blasting village people .
At the purgatory bar ,
souls who have earned neither reward
nor punishment ,gather ...
Poets praised by their goldfish
pay for one last round ,
throwing a few bad rhymes
to the audience of eternity ...
A lonely girl rolls confused memories
around in her Schizo tempo
and invites me to take a talk
in her looney head .
I remember one day,
exploring her lunar curves .
She was just a tourist
in the world of the living ...
The next day,about noon ,
she fell in love with a noose ,
leaving me a soap bubble
memory ...
Vodka for everyone
and Russian roulette
for the poors in spirit !
we\'re just legless pawns
running on a rigged chessboard .
At the purgatory bar we wait
for closing time that will never come...
Are we forced to look for a sign
in the sins of others ?
Born under the star of the jack of spades
paradise isn\'t for mads !
And hell doesn\'t take losers
for its bonfire !
They never knew what to do with me...
I was a bird bumping against the wind .
In my journal I write down
moment of despair
when dinos disappeared overnight ...
Last ember damaged by life
that offers itself to nothingness.
Marylin left on Hemingway\'s arm.
At the purgatory bar no one knows
what time the dream awakens...
Night in white satin whispers the jukebox .
O shiva offers incarnation to the shadows !
Final glass of sorrow ...
And restore to me
this delicious taste of suffering ...