Somewhere, back in time,
Back in, my mind.
Everything, used to be,
Colours, smells, hues and shades.
All the things that made up my world,
Packed and bagged and out the window.
Step by step,
Got to use your chance any time you can,
Climbing up the stairs with your suit and case,
Make them understand that you are from the west,
God has chosen you to manipulate the world and all that lives upon it’s
Upon it’s face.
You are not creation’s crown.
In bocca al lupo… crepa.