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howling

de Big Melancholy

Bullshit, bullshit, stupid bullshit
sounds every day.
A fucking, fucking stink smells
everywhere.
Wake up, oh wake up! It isn't too late now.
For your disablement will soon be
your death.

Spit tablesin a dirty pub
full ash-trays and your stench.
On the same chair every day.
A lot of plans and ideas
only among the words.

...And days, weeks like years
are running away.
A tergiversations are your acts
it's the acme of your existence.

Move you lazy bum from the pub.
Change your empty life.
You are a hero only in the dive.
You are a big-mouth corpse.
Big-mouth corpses. They are for shit
the losers from a pubs are dying alive.

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