What is my purpose?
If not to suck up this dirt,
Like cocaine leaves a mirror,
As snow falls on this mountain,
So far from South America,
As weekends are embarked upon,
Talked about and laughed over,
That dirt laid there,
Waiting for me ,
Like a bride wanting deflowering,
Sweet my that is an image,
So clean and dust free,
Vacuum dancing to the beat,
Illegal shamanism in my soul,