Cobra Casanova
My melodrama, gypsy earrings, broken girl, sick cows
Nevertheless, states go on and on and on
A rape and a murder
Our dark tendencies
They are just dead giveaways
To the emptiness that is our soul.
Like a million such melodramas,
An incident created this well
I'm sitting in it now
I'm anxious, and that makes me scream out
I'm scared and that makes me freak out
I observe,
The walls of this well;
They not of mortar and stone,
They're just ugly pieces of melodrama.
As I keep sitting in the well
Events happen as the night unfolds
Brothers turn lovers after dark
Lovers turn tigers
Tigers have red eyes
Red glowing pieces of charcoal
Whores get branded in brothels
Fairies scream
Sons bring heroin to mothers
Fathers peddle dreams, and pixie dust.
It's past midnight now,
Brothels operate harder than banks in the morning
Saints smoke weed,
Priests visit fairies
Bless them with love, drink their blood
Everything has a price
They say with a smirk
It's past one,
Chicken arrives in trucks
Fish follow chicken
Vegetables follow fish
Huge city, huge appetite
Walking graveyard of dead men
Broken monks
Castrated little helpless society
Fattened up to how my heroin-addicted friends would like it
It's past two now,
Vampires come out
Coffee kicks in for the unhappy professor
He's about to get murdered tonight
His poems do not sit well with the castrated societal pigs
Middle class bankers toss in bed
Some virgin remembers a bad dream
Some virgin gets panic attacks
Some uncle sneaks into his niece's room to touch her
Its past three,
The virgin now feels like texting the sad student
Then she remembers
Monks don't speak
She stops
Quits
She got plenty of fools to dive into a fire
Outside, a lady appears
She cleans for the little school where the whores kids go
Its past four now
Subaltern species start to wake up
Fallen men leave the city
The city is clean again
No more Narcopolis
The call repeats
The raucous call of a wet raven
Eternity rains flowers on the prophet's grave.
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