the clown weeps where's the fun ? where's the son ? i'm already awake smile, here it comes
the stranger melts in someone's head black on the road back from the dead keeps me up at night noises beneath my bed and sleep never returns turns my mind instead
and now i'm nothing more absolutely sure, that this world isn't for me
i'm searching for a door, to lock me in, inside with my soul that burns in me
if not for poetry, where else would the lonely ever be ?