Bohemia Suburbana
planeta hola
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a door that closes,
a shot that blinds me or maybe three;
there is no pain.
a branch that burns me,
a thousand neurons believe they are flying or maybe ten;
there is no pain.
Hello planet
a thousand ants with their teeth
they are words that lie to me or maybe three;
there is no fear.
a decadent planet
where a donkey is president or maybe a hundred;
there is no love.
Hello Planet, Hello Planet,
Hello Planet, Hello Planet...goodbye.
and here there is nothing left to give or receive;
and here nothing more, nothing more...
only to die.