welcome to planet pod,
where insects sound like lasers
and men who wear abrasive hats,
with eyeballs judge like juries,
and skin that flakes like ancient paint,
suffocate contentment
birds creep over tin roofs
like criminals with tap shoes

stain the glass with windows,
extortionate and cold stare
we're much preferred customers,
and honestyly I don't care

you'll get a chance, another chance, one more sun

drape the concrete curtains, over empty spaces
age is just a number drawn on empty faces...sun...sun...



por: Beatriz Passos