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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-06-25 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
There is an old man howling in my chest
A man decrepit in demeanor and morals alike He's starving for unholy tricks of youth The youth he never had the chance to visit Caged as he was in his Catholic living-room This man sees nubiles carrying both genders each Women and men converted to androgyny By the perversion of his appetites Which is not yet to say that he's to fear Few voyeurs lacking spirit in their phalli Are so polite and clumsy while they're feeling There is an old man crying In the chest of a howling old man And vice versa Each taking turns in fathering the other Both squandering the wets of lust and mourning While watching love entangle others Whose skins feel savagely eternal There is an old men in my chest Who just won't get through the rehearsals And die for good.
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