The crazy demography of death in our minds; our shine-clad generation suggests our invisible escape to depravity
we are Not innocent, we are Not cured-
of whatever disease we choose to hide in our black cages
we are afraid without pure fear; we are a disgrace
And so much happens in the streets at night-
as each man loses his faith in (?)you-name-it, that we breed either
poets, prophets or politicians, vegetables.