NO HIT

Water
Belong to water
from toast to toast
it doesn’t matter
you know the thing.
Slumber,
fishing the stranger
semen white cigar
hanging in tears
I’m going to madness

Is it coming my blast?
Is it is it is it
Is it coming my blast?
I don’t know
what Tokio have

Struggle
without a candle
sucking the feelings
feeling the shit
spitting the minds
but I’m not a hunter
Skulls
in the mirror with you
the fucking face
of the dancers on trip
dying with moon

Is it coming my blast?
Is it is it is it
Is it coming my blast?
I don’t know
the Earth can’t that stand

The young man crash
Kill aliens moving
I understand







Foto:
-Tumba de Jim Morrison, Pere La Chaise Paris, de Jacob Sonne