Dreamers Merchant Street

The Chickies are on their way                       
Living sculptures
Making hay
In the evening of the sleeping vultures

They smell like youth’s spirit
Or something I know from the past
Forgot and forget to remember it
The grey dessert lies ugly, sweet and vast
There at my dancing feet
In the dusty Dreamers Merchant Street

The Cockerels holding on to their crotches
Keeping them warm in the summer air
I have buried all my watches
To awake a depth’s creature that watches
Me, bent over the chair

The Cockerels get lost in the night
And I start eating up ideas
In the boredom of their last sight
Calling up to the dullheads and the queers

My differentiations-capability is fading
Don’t know why my wonder is waiting
Can’t wonder any more – Yah!
It died in the ash cloud of boredom and Gomorrah

But I’ am always happy to see you again

They are so young – Nay!
I’am – still
So I want you to stay
It could be my last will
Anyway
Or go on and give me some rest
Either way
It should be for both of our best