Why are the streets so fucking empty?
Old favourites lie dead in the mud
Who are were those cunts?

Much to its own chargrin
The vision of sight
Grants us the ability to perceive threat
Move out of the way

A jealous man
Pretending to be a bachelor
Drops his fucking drink
He lost his nerve

He doesn’t leave though

He sits in the corner

Regroups

Regathers his thoughts

He’s pretty sure he’s in the right place
Is it for the wrong reasons?

A small mutation of hedonism
Doesn’t stop progress for long

Towards the dark
At two times the speed
Towards what is important

We will never guess
What we need to know

To stay safe