Call of the Void.

13b

The portrait of progress is me

Waiting in the house, forever and ever

Those who leave go somewhere, it’s their turn, they were called.

When they come back they throw punches and kicks

To the boxes with food that is not enough for everyone.

They are the laughter of the children their parents met

Where deep is the path that leads to nothingness.

And the rest of the beings now hang from their hands

On the edge of oblivion the herd is fed.

The sky is hungry and the gods are awake

Others die at the side of the road, far from our gaze

And they burn in the fire, far from their children, from their mothers

There are no witnesses, but thorns buried in the ground.

But the boss greets me, the morning coffee

And the mold in the air tickles in the throat.

The lady in the subway feels like throwing herself on the rails

But now there are more than twenty between her and the edge

But you can follow your way, old friend or acquaintance

Let your steps echo in mystical realms

And your sleeping eye now reveal souls in stereo

Inside this bag of stars where nothing stays

Everything passes and is annihilated, transformed and bleeding

And don’t forget, the hours of the Earth are accounted for.

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