Hangover

There’s a celebration in the street

But what are they celebrating?

Oh, yeah, it’s like the day of the city

The air is impregnated with the presence smell of these beasts

Do you agree with this epithet?

They are of other race

They are not people

Or just the contrary, they are people

And I'm probably not

What’s the time?

It is obviously not morning

But I will not leave my musty shelter

I won’t merge with the crowd

I won’t wait for the transport foolishly, I won’t go

I will not wear the mask of normality, not today

There’s a celebration in the streets

It’s good that it’s autumn

I can close the curtains

I can kill the noise with blanket

And will not hear the sounds from outside

Soon they will begin to break each others empty heads

Crud, stupid scumbags

There’s the celebration in the street

But I have more important things to do

I have to choose the name for my conscious loneliness

There’s a celebration in the street