I have broken my guitar,
I have torn my strings,
Sickening sweet smell
Of my wine-blood,
Second swansong, corpse of ghost -
My new defences, my saviors.
I have abandoned from all poems -
Poet never wins.
My age - iron age,
Stargate not for me.
To win includes to suffer and to lose.
Now I'll win - I was and suffering and losing.
It is no lying, no silence and no truth.
For better times I'm buring music.
- I have won, Master of Crowd,
Give me now my treasure!
- Alive I won't give you it.
You can kill me! - With plesuare!