DEATH is supine

It never arrives and when finally it does it smells bad. You get a look to a seat but it's always overcrowded.
"Gimme a seat!" as if it's up to you
but at the end you have to content yourself with a tight corner or, even, have a thin travel on your feat!

LIFE is an hold

Paradise is like a railway station, people find with their luggages the exit, turning on into a chaotic convulsion. They try to survive, finally breathing after a neverending trip in that smelly hold.

I'M NOT YOUR TOY-BOY

there's an ashtray full of cigarettes
It's not my affair they're eating a lot of sweets

I feel good here with my soldiers
they hear only me following my orders
...since to die!

In the living room they have party
talking about painful something
With no end and no energy
I fight in the air
against an imaginary face
...as musch smoke as in a visionary race!

Not Christmas Enought

Christmas is that
Wake up !
It's happened nothing of what you wished, good

Out it's foggy (as usual)
Wash your face (that you hate)
don't think, do it!!
While you're opening the curtains the only desire is go back to the bed

There's already a terrible headache in the head, you've got it!
so, it's not all perfect
otherwise it's not been the common Christmas for fools, of course!

I love London

TERROR CHRISTMAXXX