Underground

Honey honey, I'm a billionaire

and I ride through the subway,

I fly through the city streets.

And all life resides

underground.



In that mist the fog breathes heavily,

sometimes I wish that it would sing for me

through tall buildings like lighthous',

but they never sing

and I don't dream.



Honey honey, I'm a dancer

and I dance through weird tunnels

and watch the street paint

while time passes by

underground.



At night the cabareés,

At night those screams,

At night,

police cars materialize.

All of course,

Underground.



There's a heavy sleeper down there

at the bottom of the world,

where giants groan, bums sleep,

weepers and grim weepers

twist through, in metallic hues.



Gothic caves fluttering by plastic windows,

aqua coloured fishes in a neon-flourescent world,

the drunks on the plattform wailing

and workaholics dream aloud.

Life is weird down here

underground.



The sister love triangles and all their jazz,

sad men listfully watching the passers-by.

Were all invisible here,

and my face is a broken harlequinn.

Sometimes I do occasionally dream,

sometimes i scream, and the world answers me,

"underground".

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