Speak, or silence. Gather your wit, or die. The screen’s flashing. The tension is immense. Who’d want the audience laughing at their expense? We’re all equally unimpressed, coincidence? No. The screen’s flashing for the glory of millennium. New trades of the body language, firm handshakes. A letdown engraved ██ a tomb, with a switchblade knife, ███████ late bloomer. What else blooms near but the shame, the girlfriend of the year. Speak, or silence.

Boredom is kicking in and for the sake of comedy I kick the last breath of what a gentleman’s supposed to be. Ferociousness is taking over the place, mistaking desire for sympathy. Nobody cares you’ve wasted an entire season searching for Jesus, so spare the rest your holy speeches, they won’t believe it. The conversation’s got booze-based and often easy. It’s easy to sparkle like we’re of the books. Who’s the best artist, we deliver saliva to paint the pavements in the city, like a still life with scat and used syringes in it. Watch how it chokes, while elsewhere the screams of melodrama disguise, what some of us surmise, was only a joke. Stop. Pay attention. Forget all you have ever seen. Hurry up to join our menagerie. It doesn’t matter what you think, because everyone here knows better the essence of quality. My house–your house, shit your friends ████ to find overseas. Who cares if it’s real, best believe it’s not a dream. Don’t you ever hesitate, it almost seems like you would rather face reality. ███████ neighborhoods are women, friends claim that this one is a menace, currently on a hunt for piece of action on a rainy days, playing dumb to lure the prey inside her little cosy place. Ain’t she afraid of the big bad wolf? She is a big bad wolf. The balaclava on a shelf and the marks of razor on both wrists were just a phase, she says. I maintain what I serve my people–my people are all the same. Under the spotlight, pretend to behave, but secretly scan darker corners and wait until they can lose it and let the sweat run down their face, pretend there’s nobody but them in this place. Hold up. You’re just another name. Flop as a one-trick pony and none of your intentions matter. Unless you play the game. Stop. Pay attention. Forget all you have ever seen. Hurry up, to join our menagerie. (If you get tired of this infinite chivalry, I can bend your mind and make you me.) It doesn’t matter what you think, because everyone here knows better the essence of quality. My house–your house, shit your friends ████ to find overseas. (If you ever get tired of this infinite chivalry, I will destroy those chains and set you free.) Who cares if it’s real, best believe it’s not a dream. (Best believe it’s not a dream.) Don’t you ever hesitate, it almost seems like you would rather face reality. (Would you rather face reality?)

Brains get weak and topics trashy, stay tuned (the screen’s still flashing). The thoughts, the bars, the food (of no flavour?) Whatcha gonna do? Stay away from a problem. Next time I dine with them, pretend to understand, nod every now and then, I’ll keep my shit behind the closed doors. At any cost. You or your friends may never reach me.

Keep your eyes on the Gram, play hate to the process. Just (fly me to the moon). We’re both the same. (Fly me to the moon) or some place else. I usually attend to the loony bin misadventures, but not today. Callers, better note I’m miles away. Usually just stick to whatever’s on a plate and just play along, but lately everybody’s been like––––Bless, and if you’re ever back in town pay me a visit. Lately you’ve been busy, but you’re trying to work it out. Say you’re trying to work it out. Instead of tales of you reaching inner peace, just hit me with another of how you change fast, unlike your enemies. Memory has seen you bleed over last few years. Yet nine out of ten wouldn’t trade for another. Sit down. Eat well. Take care, my brother. Has seen you sweat, restlessly roll on a bed. The least but not the last. It’s all yours, we’re blessed, my brother.

Blow me some smoke, I don’t care. I’m feeling radical. I roam free in dying hope to fill the holes. Got my four walls and a roof, guess I’m proof to all the ordinary sticks and stones, or any physical torture. See how it goes with our self–control as you blow me some more. Did a spliff murder my soul? This is one precious life–I sleep well, I build the new me, though I miss my old self, I’m cautious. Blow me some smoke, I see my place, a certain beauty, an infinite race, where blokes get stabbed and cars collide only a few steps away from where the weddings take place. Can you hand me the keys, so me and my peer can go for a ride? Be cautious. Will you stay cautious? And I forgive myself on daily basis, pour myself a drink. And often talk in disrespect, but I don’t mean a single thing, I’m cautious and lost in faces and opinions when the sun goes down. Can you blow me some smoke, once again I’m feeling radical. I roam free, but I think I filled the holes. You had a few good years in a row? Man, it comes and goes. Keep your wishes on an all time low and hand me the keys, so you and me can go for a ride. Be cautious. Will you stay cautious? Will ya?