How can we dance
when the birds
are dead?
Cut the tumor
out of my mind
(not my soul
-it is pure,
            beautiful.)

I woke up too late,
my train has left.
         That's how
             I feel.
2000 years old train
Destination: City of the Sane.
I will catch it,
however, I'll leave
before the final station
Is reached.

I don't mind
roaming the woods for ever,
walking the meadows
and climbing the hills.

     I refuse.