Up and down it flows,
round and round it goes,
where it stops we all know,
Roller coaster, Roller coaster.

Clacking down the tracks,
no one ever looks back,
never homeward bound,
that familiar sound,
Roller coaster, Roller coaster.

Hear the cries and pleas,
of punters filled with glee,
hair flying wind rushing,
Roller coaster, Roller coaster.

Never to want it to stop,
movement around the clock,
rush rush fast fast,
Roller coaster, Roller coaster.

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Baby, we got on the roller coaster and everything began spinning. We were dizzy. It was almost 10 o'clock and we had own hands full of cold. It was us two, baby. You and I in the middle of the roller coaster, you and I in a totally insane sunday splashed with darkness. Baby, you and I, broken, fragile, demented. ******* up. With our *** cold. Happy under the rain in the roller coaster. I think you closed your eyes to touch with the tip of your fingers the black sky, the clouds, the rain and then you said that something wasn't going ok in the roller coaster, that it smelled like blood, and I told you to keep calm, that nothing was going on. The night smelled of blood, of wet newspaper, of liquor, of a just-fired pistol. Keep calm baby, I told you, every sunday is the same, but you insisted something was not ok and then you vomited and we look backwards and forewards and we were splashed by drops of blood and rain. Every passenger in the roller coaster had cut their veins and their blood was falling everywhere. Keep calm baby. You kept vomiting. The passengers were looking at the sky, they were with their arms opened and you said, what a nice way to die, keep calm baby, and you added that maybe that people dreamt of touching the sky and the clouds with the tip of their fingers and its better not to *****.