I\'ts a cold mourningshift around
the central station afterlife .
In this spirit of evil burned by insomnia
all that remains in dead leaves
between vomit and disgust for love .
As well a red puddle as ultimate excretion...
Drunks and killers are crescent moon friars.
At flickering hours pass by the black poet
who purify the soul of the trash cans .
Central station ,tourists embarking to nowhere,
purchasing a one -way regret
and go sip a coffin at the local starback ...
Today is epidemic morning .
It is mandatory to advance secretly masked .
Miss Death will be delayed due to the strike.
A queen of spades lingers on a wet embrace...
Poor Jack of hearts out of play !
It\'s the hour when rats roll the flea shroud ,
discovering that dreams always lead
to the hall of infamy ...
At the departure gate ,a nutecase
wrote \'\' I love you ! \'\'
correspondance interrupted
by a police raid .
Often people become cops
because they failed their hooligan exam...
But that\'a another story .
A bullshit that we don\'t tell each other
in a busy station hell ...
\'\' Hey bloke Can you spare a few coke ? \'\'
In the weariness of our steps,
perhaps we will rediscover
the meaning of the journey ...
On halloween masquerade
the drowned children will return .
Local starback eternity .
Central station terminal island ...