Slush on the road, boring and cold
The taxi's meter is running
And I have no money,
Hell's bells so tiresome
To be poor like Raskolnikov
Hero of Fyodor Dostoevsky's
Novel of desperation
Crime & Punishment .

Boring and sad I come back 
To sweet torments,
I forgot myself by the fireplace,
I drop off to sleep wildly, without looking.

Sounds like a clock
The circle of life, like digestion
A necessary evil, 
Spend your time deleting documentaries
Translating fables, for mdnight can not separate us.

The winter road threads us
Through undulating mists
The moon makes its pretty way to smiling faces,
To the sad fields of corpses
Arms akimbo and frozen, like art.

His dead face glows sadly, lightly.
On the road to winter's faded vivacity,
The trinity of time - past, present, future
runs away with me,
one bell at a time.

Something still is held dear
In the old songs 
Maybe the revelry has left us
for the heart-ridden melancholy
Of goodbye kisses.

There's no fire, just concrete cold
Wilderness and snow 
Miles of trees 
Grey trunks stripped by acid rain

Sad paths lead us back
To fat, unpleasant England
The dream of sanctuary 
Gone now, under the loon-faced moon.