Railroad Ranting...

Sunday afternoon
and the cold gaze
remains unchanged
soft winter sent
nothing changes
sitting on a bench
looking through the fog
up to the hungry stars
blood is made to be spilled
an unannounced guess
expelled from the old times
good times, bad times
all the same unworthy of repetition
a summoning of brother poets
alcohol and tobacco
high on nicotine
bronze echoed voice
breaks the thin silence
a megera, a song, tartarian calling
people need doubts to feed their hearts
their selves the most precious thing
their feelings slaughtered for fake dreams
their innocence stolen from their elders
self-centric bastards looking for salvation
nothing changes
nothing changes
its all is it has always been
high on tobacco
more alcohol
more drugs
expenditure and waste
care to run old alone?
care to kiss the dragon's flame?
care to puke your guts every morning?
nothing changes
just us being high
just us being low
us simple human beings
that craved to be gods
that aimed for something impossible
to live until the day we die
but lets return to reality
we'll find ourselves
in the rotten corpses
of dead animals killed
on the highway.
Bleeding isn't enough to weaken you
still envying anything and everybody
makes change seems unbearable
look in the glass ball of yours
the snowflakes have melted
and showed their true nature
cotton not snow
fake not real
and the winter
is drowning near
and the world
drifts further
away from me
and I'm glad
I'm so glad
its dark and quiet
and the long process of talking
somewhere here ends
actions lead to nowhere anyway
we are blessed to trouble our minds
with things that have no value
with things that give no value
we are blessed to recognize our curse
and the cruise ends on a deserted port
still there, on the bench
looking through the fog
to the stars, were we all truly belong
we are all truly happy and content