6pm Deadbeat
Deadbeat and so airsick,
without moving out of my faultless apartment.
Desiring to jump on the wagon,
like those big smiles with legs that I hate.
Since ivory affairs
we started to shiver.
I wonder whose intelligence is artificial,
while I go over my crashes.
If only this could be the chance
to find the hand that fits with mine.
Mechanical creations made
to find the hand that fits with mine.
