Collapse

Peter threw a good question "What's like if a nation goes bankrupt? No taxi? or what?"
I can never answer, but I wonder, I worry.
My little dreamland is drowning into the Atlantic Ocean, and soon swallowed by fishes.

My passion is collapsing, because you're diving for too long.
I wonder how you are going lately, in Manhattan, with your naughty creativity.
Under the fabulous neon lights, your mind is soaring.
I can imagine how bustle and hustle over there,
with cars roaring, music tramping and people toasting.
I just want you to play the piano again,
I shall ask for no more.

Too much thoughts, too much words
are flocking through a narrow fleshy corridor.
They are soon broken into bubbles and fly away from me.

Så er det, sådan.
Jeg bliver færlig snart.