The society war, the big smoke, escaping from the clouds, trying not to choke Weekend tonic being ideal change spent especially scavenging for a reality shapeless yet bent Thoughts gather sense after the final savour of wine, pleasance in the air with everything dazed and fine A sudden moment of immortal prismed bliss, an impression of Nirvana opening with a glance yet closing with a kiss Pierced by that alluring cosmic sky, smokeless, yet still born from routine, not knowing how to die