I put my fingers
in the hole of my head,
screaming, crying,
crawling thru the ruins.
Humans like armies
the discoloring protector
of the city.
Gangs of destruction
with collapsing brains
talking from disarmament,
a justice about
life and dead.
Marching upright
through the demolution
terring up proudly their fists,
to show
who are the heroes.
Painfull days,
like the end
of passionately friendship,
nothing but sorrow.
Somebody close his eyes
to leave the reality.
Living in a dream
absent from despair.
What a time