All these stories, are just a bunch of words and interpretations.
You name the stars, the scars, the bars you put up high to hide to reach to confine to define to find….
You and me in different cell but the same prison.
Freudian dreams, Jungian Myths, Lacanian Imagination and Kafkaesque absurdity…
Don’t you think reality is just another story?
With you I am rock and roll; that sleepless drunk poet looking for the devil, pretending to pay a debt with something he no longer have: his soul.
Without you, my mood is jazz and blues, ups and downs with sax and brass an ex with grass then sex and breast.
I never have anywhere to go, so I follow every ho who says land ho! I guess they always want to settle in an island but the wave give ride to the night and right, I have no right to stay for the devil hath take my soul and the full moon tide is my mood.
My jazz and blues mood. My jizz and bliss food.
No wonder you’re gone for good.