the madness of the world
the ache of the unfit
we are controlled by our spleens
our well-rehearsed performance
we are the off-coloured
the uncontrolled dancers
the unsound cancer
the scientists call it human
we live through our daily routine
by selling our tourette as our excellence
we make our pain cool
so people love us
but they look at me
the same way they look at a diseased child
he is an artists, hipster, bohemian
do i get love or aversion
do i deserve both
do i grant both
with my remarkable dancing steps
can't adhere them within
hard to decode
prodigious mistakes
happened to offhand mothers
and boys who desired a fuck
im the boy who wants to fuck
the demerit of hard labour
sacrifice
breeding
upbringing
first and foremost love
miracle of activity and power
of not using a condom
of unnatural constellations
of messed up people
with big dreams
which they couldn't carry
of tradition
nouveau cerebration
of future
and past
of something that wasn't planned as it turned out
turned out quite fucking good
one of a fucking kind
a disaster
perfection
nothing
and everything
ultimate
being
ultimate
will
i will be
i dance on
people stare
i laugh
i cry
live on
make rules
break them
build pyramids
climb them
pissing from the roof
as a skill of my accomplishment
gibberish
what life is
action
word
word
action
only you understand
only i listen
high-five myself
for being shallow
