English Boy - 80's (Pt.II)

Outside

A door closing behind. The sound of the past. The forgettable past. I can't look behind, I can't face my past. But memories are silent. The white hall remains fresh inside the nihilist brain. Beating on the wounded heart. And it make a contrast with the black, dark and dirt streets. Soon, the white (intended to foolish) hall will be consumed. And the air won't be conditioned. And the lungs will faint. So I run. This is the place where darkness can't get even more dark. So I run. And the lungs scream for mercy. Totally in vain. Dry air. I could stand still. I could. But we could dance. Dance to the radio. Run to the dance. Wash the demons. Wash the coal and steel. Wash it on someones else body. So I run. Looking for a church, a priest and the holly water. I want to be fucking exorcised.

(cont.)