The trees are gone
The seashore is lit by the shadows of sharks
I don’t want to go home
Where tables and chairs are empty
And walls echo from the distance
A charming song for no one to hear
A blizzard for the bespoken lie
It is I who speak the depths of cosmos
It is I who dares to see the light
The wisdom is chosen by the
Slow running stream
Don’t ever chase nightmares for horseback rides,
don’t drink from the fountain of youth –
The dream will end when there’s no more of it.