End of Fight
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!