However - you’re sitting
in the kitchen
at the typewriter
and Gavin Friday
sings in the living room
something about
his twentieth century.
Your twentieth century.
And a couple of other songs more.

Sure, all this means something for you.

But now it’s only a
scenery of sound
while you’re indulging yourself
to the keys of the
old ADLER (you say it’s inspiration)
sorting everything
what has calmed, amused,
confused and almost killed you.

Then - today
was one of those days again
where hope was to seize, even present
and therefore you can’t sleep,
then it has pushed you.
Although nothing happened.

Whatever - the sleep seems to come yet
then now the spaghettis and the beer are
dancing behind your brow
and this makes you
happy and tired.