In these troubled waters
mixed weed and whiskey
where the soul of the shipwrecked
will never reach the shore .
Raft adrift ,toy of insolent winds .
What\'s the point of wandering ?
I had embarked, drunk passenger ,
on a great ship, my heart beating
with ink-black blood ...
The horizon was nothing but the freedom
of thought that reason sought
to rob me of ...
I fled those cities where at dawn ,
the god poop collector passes with his pump
disregarding the poor crying pumpkins ...
Killer child of the shining hotel ,
becomes orphan once again ...
Unsane people all you need to do
is let yourself be carried away
by the rain that wets the windows...
Master of trade winds
or captain of the apocalypse...
How many insoluble waves
call me to to the brakish taste of the depths ?
Logbook that closes on the desire
for sunken kingdoms ...
Inner mayday that the passerby
navigating at the whim of their dreamphones
cannot hear ...
I perceived the mermaid\'s melody
and believed myself to be master of the tides.
Rejecting the city of the living
to meditate in funeral spaces
of submerged necrospheres...
My compass is just a crazy companion
who shows me the way down
a long white hallway
where utopian shadows
are waiting to board for the tropics
of the shipwreck ...