Well, another day's gone by.

In the shower,water felt cold again,
seems to me that toothpaste only stains
the most expensive blouses,
alarm clocks never get broken,
there are these mornings when i wake up beautiful,
and grow ugly on my way to the mirror.

In the station a beggar asked me for change.

Picked the street up by its thinnest end,
and held it in my handful for a while.
A bus came out from between the fingers
then slowly drove towards the sleeve,
stopping at every beauty spot.

There was a jam along the ring finger.
The traffic light had vanished overnight
on the bottom of a drawer.

Remember the crossroad between lifeline and loveline?
It was under repair.
Seems there'd been an accident and people had died.

Before getting on the trolley I dusted my street in the beggars' handfuls.
Hadn't found you anywhere.

At the end of the bridge, I lit the match.
Burnt out and scalded my finger tip.
Lit another one.

Well, another day's gone by.

Same story.

As it was getting daker, the bridge was burning down.


After that I even felt happy for a while,
but then I remembered I'd forgotten
to drive you away from my riverside.