When the city sleeps ,
in the limbo ,strange bodies
writhe and moan ,
searching for their shadows.
Lost echoes,tear each other apart
in the dew of yawning throats ,
as primal scream erupts...
The lampposts absolve the hanged
who lingers at the speakeasy tavern
after having a last drink with a real rascal.
Fear not, the fallen angel is a good guy !
Watchman of dusk ,stirring
the fire of your divine solitude...
So the pistolero steps out of the lullaby ,
setting out to preach the future of the gentiles...
when the city sleeps ,we\'d grab a cry baby Barbie
that blends semi-nake in the darkness,
disturbed minds, don\'t neglect your vesper rituals...
Once the city sleeps,
darkness awakens,
attuned to the heavy burden of the unspoken .
enlightened midnight\'s Buddhas
overturning the cosmic hourglass
that grants the imagination a spark ...
Somewhere a Metropolis lies ,
its phosphorous eye stare fixed on the poet
bowed above a scrawled parchment .
And that weary trembling little flame
tapping its last inspired telegraph
in the rapture of a endless night ...