- Life’s painted black.
- What about white lines?
- It’s just a lack
of thinking.
Nescience of the fact
that soul is not worth a farthing.
Lies to ourselves…
- Okay… and Love?
- So what?!. Frantic role
we play. Opium for mind.
The hole leading to the death
in isolation from belief and hope.
- So,
how about Belief?
- It’s nothing - story of the thieves
who’d stolen our right to truth.
- …And Hope?
- oh… it’s just a groove - the same as to breath.
Just our useless stupid dreams…
- …You know… It’s hurt…
- Knock it off! Pain means you’re still alive!..
- But… What for?..
- hum… To be remembered when you finally will die.