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A jet flies
southward
the cosmic waist of the folkloric coffin of a DC-10
that turns into stars against the ground
Today I'm like a jet
lost among the clouds
with no signs to see where I'm going.
But my heart is not blind
can rise to the sky
can live making love to you
but I'm leaving.
Another whiskey and a thousand already
I wonder then if you would still be here when I was nobody
and I have no money in my pocket.
The nostalgia that once again
I don't understand those who do the same as I did yesterday
but only up to a point
like living in the past.
I escaped without thinking,
I listened to the Beatles
and went to seek solitude
and you were also green.
I can rise to the sky
can die making love to you
but I'm leaving
but I'm leaving.