A skull full of synapses
Blood pumps in your ears
You lie on twenty mattresses and don’t get any sleep
And how hard is a pillow
When you can’t sleep?
The pea is your conscience and you don’t affect it
Sounds in front of your window
Smoke climbs out of the night
And when you think you’re seeing ghosts
Then be sure the ghosts see you, too
No matter what compartment you’re traveling in
We’re all the same when the train derails
But you didn’t understand anything
No matter how softly you sit today
That’s nothing that benefits you in the end
When everything explodes
Because you don’t want to see what happens
You’re the stowaway
You hit swaths point-blank
And don’t stay put
You glide as if on tracks and can’t see the goal
Only meadows, forest and fields
What passes by
As if the earth was a record and only played the same song
No matter which compartment you’re traveling in …