Sunday Nights never worked...
While the world happens outside
rain
war
stripshow
Nostalgia LSD sounds coming from
the radio
I write my poems in my own mind first
then yours second
O soulful boys & girls
of the city
your worldly thoughts & ripped blue jeans
make me write
Come all together now
We're lovers of the great work
Unexpected secret blackmail death
Count to ten & hold your last breath
While I pray to Allah or Kingdom come
hoping to see god under the red sun
But if my prayers fall
& my soul don't fly
I'll dig myself a grave
crawl in & die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem