The Sting by Karkwa
An Olympic head
Flames in the shoes
A metal thorax
In the thigh a sting, the sting.
Android performer
He climbs over the exchangers
Takes himself for a racing car
He doesn't feel pain
He doesn't feel pain
He no longer feels the pain...
The hair is like needles
A tourniquet on the cold blood
The brain oscillating
Between delirium and combat
Two creosote lungs
Two yellow revolver fingers
The pusher at the door
He doesn't feel the pain
He doesn't feel the pain
He doesn't feel not pain
He feels nothing, he feels nothing and yet...

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