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Constantly stalling the gasoline
burning the ambient air
Rolling the grass and asphalt
to nothingness
Nothingness in the eyes
br/>in our bull faces
The engine exalts
all our torments
Games of chance
pass the time long
Dreaming about guitars
thinking to the songs
Being afraid that my muse will fall
December on my ordeal
Let someone console me by telling me
that I am not the only one
who needs a change of scenery
Punch the blessed 5 stars
hit the camp bed
Dive into the jacuzzi
or into the disturbing
It's because I'm too often cursed
and a bad loser
I accept the fact of being spoiled
Otherwise
But I have afraid that my muse will fall
I want to come down from my ordeal
Let someone console me by telling me
that I am not the only one
who needs to change of air