I’m doing fine
on cloud nine
the seventh heaven
the welfare line,
brand controlled in a traffic jam
lost in rules and taxes
with an infinite hole as a bank account
I’m throwing thrash on this virginity,
the red constructions
of the burning ground.
Walking the dog completely naked
in the raging fragile rain.
Sweet inspiration
breathing in and out, so fine
this eloquent celebration
against all odds.
Elemental kicking against the pricks
stirring up the farm yard again,
there is no borderline
I’m doing fine
playing with those ancient licks
wide open is the heart
it's all in the mix.
Mashed up creation,
sampled blood of realisation
from the global memory,
this sins will not be forgotten
while I'm
embracing Johnny Rotten.
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