It’s a trip
A family trip
A man trip,
a father trip
A descent into a new dimension,
unknown
but real and disperate at the same time
which leaves the bitter flavour
of bleary-eyed memoirs,
evanescent in the miserable
blurry of retrò dreams
strugly hard to forget.
A descent into a glacial hell,
lived by no-fault angels,
waiting for their salvation,
dipped like into an ice ocean,
lost in the eternal encounters,
encounters which are tears, encounters
which are hands looking for love,
hands that keep each others.
A descent which is a soul kidnapping,
harrowing in the blurred images
which give help to
the heart looking for love.
Light dancers
into the mug
Flight uncertain as their future
which is waiting for’em
And worried war eyes
On little no-fathers soldiers faces.
Toys as trophies
And herpes monumento
Just cut the hope far fair air
Which always wins, heart’s
intentions partner in crime
LIPETZK (RUSSIA) AUGUST 2005
