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Before cuckoos awake my neighbour's milky kid,
After Moon has passed the centre of black sky,
Somewhere in between an old forgotten fruit pit
And all these mammal-like creatures looking for bites:
I can see in the mirror coffins made of zink
"Nothing bad happens in this town and, God forbid,
It ever does!" a teenage neighbour mama cry.
A cry of times her husband screwed around with chic.
Oh, night, you wear a patterned scarlet tie.
I still see in the mirror coffins made of zink
The things I want and never could have bid,
The people who I love, in whom I sure confide.
They come and go as flows and ebbs within a beat
And, damn, I miss my parents' home and homemade pie.
I blink.
Before me there's a coffin made of zink
Something serpentined in pots, so naked I hid.
A bunch of stars comes in and somehow makes me shy.
They smirk and lurk at how I look when I am stripped
Off the clothing, off the imposterous lucid smiles
They make me long for simple coffins made of zink.
My neighbours sleep but in my bed I cannot fit,
Therefore I cannot sleep like them, although I'd like...
No! I would have loved to finally fall asleep!
Lord! I cannot pass another smauldering night
Or else I will move to a coffin made of zink!
And nothing happens. I stay afraid.
I take a gun, then shoot myself
Until I fall asleep as well.
Until the price for dreams is paid.
A coffin made of zink awaits the day I sink.
It has waited the day when I do lastly sink.
Frightened cuckoos awake my neighbours milky kid.
He cries, his mama screams, his papa eyes
The great beasts leaving to find a place to eat.
Sun is landing softly on zink coffin of mine