You behind a glass look out
Along the glitter of the sidewalks
And the people have dissolved into the evening...
Your mother average height average dreams
Who blinks from camel
And she hasn't resigned nor does she even hope...
A thorn bush your brother
Who thinks about the nails of his fingers
Stuck with a boiled air... .
Your father hands like a worker for life
Who laughs and breaks his face
Pained by TV...
You are in a hurry to experience something
And everything it's already a threadbare memory
And now the advertising...
You and your bottled up desires
Eyes like keyholes
And a sore anxiety under white snow.. .
Your father is always waiting for some ship
Tightrope walker on the edge of the past
And dinner together with a tired steak...
Your brother is a broken gramophone
A river of fleeting thoughts
It is reflected in a spoon and makes a crooked mouth...
Your mother mends a few wrinkles
And a question of sweetness
That she brings to the table and go away...
You hidden in the depths of bitterness
Pretending that the world is a beautiful place
And now the advertising...
But what a day it is It's every day
And one evening every evening
And this evening like the others
That sits next to
And there's nothing that comes back
No joy and no match
To set fire to everything...
You in that little bird's back
That bends and you can see the worries
Of your tomorrows and your few years ...
Your father rubs his jaws
Like breadcrumbs in his beard
A cigarette between his teeth and he talks about it...
Your mother who wakes up jerkily and shakes
All the dust of a day
Without people and news...
Your stupid brother who gives a shove
To your heart turned inside out like empty pockets
And now advertising...
Today is almost a century of boredom
And what will we do tomorrow and after
And then in the next twenty years
Children of hopes
For a moment of joy
In the city of antennas and sky
And the gray lights of the rooms...
And the night falls like a sheet
To dampen the eyes and the televisions
And you look out behind a glass...