VOLVIÓ LA CALMA. LO ÚLTIMO QUE HIZO ÉL ANTES DE DAR MEDIA VUELTA Y ALEJARSE, SIN CORRER, CAMINANDO DESPACIO COMO ÚLTIMO DESAFÍO, FUE ESCUPIR, OSTENTOSAMENTE, MUY CERCA DE LA CARA DEL CAÍDO. PERO NO LO HIZO POR DESPRECIO. FUE SÓLO UN GESTO INSTINTIVO. COMO SI TUVIERA LA BOCA LLENA DE MIERDA.
SI QUERI HACER ALGO BIEN HAZLO SOLO, IMBÉCIL
en este estado canto bacán

Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore
And I'm young & I'm strong
But I feel old & tired
Overfired

And I've been poked & stoked
It's all smoke, there's no more fire
Only desire
For you, whoever you are

You say my time here has been some sort of joke
That I've been messing around
Some sort of incubating period
For when I really come around
I'm cracking up
And you have no idea

No idea how it feels to be on your own
In your own home
with the fucking phone
And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom
Standing over your head
With her hand in your head

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
When all I wanted was to be good
To do everything in truth

Oh I wish I wish I wish I was born a man
So I could learn how to stand up for myself
Like those guys with guitars
I've been watching in bars
Who've been stamping their feet to a different beat
To a different beat

You bloody mother fucking asshole
Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole