A line grey outside maybe the abnormal case of Red odyssey
The gallows, is the first holy they grow
About the money, their golden floors,
That’s why they pretend to be low

They hunt a buddy to believe
that success is the must key to archive
A blank pages of touch, the horror of awards,
list of bullshit, hundred of liars, the dynamite of intellectual gimmick.

A boomb soon to explode
Hurricaning the streets, making the joy of tears,
The expensive romance that absent we read.

The buddies pray to God,
in the medium of virtual art.
While moralizing the hoax they stop to attend,
at least no one will pretend.
in that grey, line.