You bustard, taught me how to cry,
Can you hear it?
Why do not you listen to it?

You bustard, sprinkle blood over me,
I was in my mint colored custom,
It is black now,
Can you see it?
Why do not you look at it?


You bastard, brought your bloody violence to the street that I always love,
I was prepared to celebrate the victory of hope,
Now, I am hearing the hope still silently marches on the street that you never own,
Now, I am looking at you beating the hope that never defeats.
Now, I am looking at you trying to kill the hope that never dies.
You bastard, remember the time that I ask:
Why cannot you see the tears?
Why cannot you hear the groan?

Like the sad moments of denying happiness
Experiencing dead momentary in void space of dust
Drinking wine is a waste of time
I am asking those musical images: Does such a thing exist that is called happiness?
They remind me “And happy is the flirting that you begin"

Spinning and flying
Higher and higher
To a place where the rainbow flowers grow
Spinning and spinging
I always carry my whisky in a transparent bag
Flying and flying
Can you hold my wings?

It was so dark in the corner of that alley
We started with apple
I smelt the rainbow flower
Music cursed us
The Apple had gone
We got lost in noise
That was rainbow color light that blessed the island of lost people
We were spinning and flying
Higher and higher
To the end
To the start