The Trip

The archaic and heavy words

from the stone age

drag and lead me, to a mental city

Metropolis with streets, of rare smells

where my steps become strange

and sounds are tiny

A place where titanium lips

kiss and cover my skin

crumpled by the flogging

of a rending sensuality

A place where they created

Abraxas from ice and fire

and they believe only what

their eyes see

It's a glass ball viewing the future

like a witch vomiting a nasty past

and a wizard made of a lovely essence

contaminates a wide and square mind

Sometimes when they find me there

I'm present but in a million places lost

looking for colossal forces to build

the everlasting tears

I have never dropped

As the piano notes, sound like a poisonous fluid

this trip becomes sad, and f**king hard

now the dream is not a quiet walk

it is a pyramidal nightmare that lifts me

to its zenith and throws me down

because this false reality shows me

the reason I'm in this town

because this false reality shows me

the reason I fell