Feb 25, 2010


we wrote the songs that you hear on the radio
during the spring we hijacked on trains
in the back of the locomotives
we washed our livers with booze
left the parliaments to the ones that already had them
we felt the fresh air hitting our face
and we passed through the sunflowers
we crossed the cornfields
we hit on stranger's doors
and on the floors that we slept, we pissed
never wanting to go back again
always chasing something new
amongst the ripped shirts and the silences
as the bats waltzed around the electricity pillars
and the abandoned trucks mourned their merciless fate
we wrote the songs that make you cry
on the day our fathers died

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