WEIn the month of May my point of view suddenly changed.This time I was more sure that I would be able to hold on, hold onto it.We repeatedly left the same places with more lung capacity,and I stopped a number of times to keep the path in my mind.It was necessary to remember the steps that brought me to those places,memorising every footprint in order to return there in darker times.That day I was probably worrying too much and this understandingbrought about my first step.That day - yellow rain on the bay. That day the same rain through the veins.The night of fires came earlier than usualin the dept of winter. Gathered in the house, the light dimwe talk in wispers, waiting for some good news,listenig from here.Midnight comes, the spirit pushes And we push just as hard.We run downhill - our shoulders covered by long shadows.But motorbikes are still bicycles-the headlights lanterns.The mountain is turning upside down.That day - yellow rain on the slate.Hot slate led the rain through the veins.E’ visione insostenibile il proprio riflesso e comunque non si vede maiAllora cechi ammirate la vostra proiezione artefattaDa operatori imperiali e pessimi architetti Come protesi di membra castrateNoi dunque distrutti ci vedremo ancora per accendere un cero sotto il nuovo monumentoTrattino sepolcro e per oggi la propria ombra resta comunque la più fedele immagine di se.And then we met impero.


(Grazie a Devilmak per questo testo)