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In my belly and in my back, I perform the most peculiar dance while thinking to myself:
Can I fly?
Can I fly?
- I USED TO BE A ROCK AND ROLL SUICIDE.
- I used to be an hero.
- I was alladinsane.
- I was ziggy stardust.
- I was the thin white duke.
- I was Major Tom.
- I was OUTSIDE and inside.
- I've lived on mars.
- I've coped on the streets of amsterdam.
- I loved jacques Brel, John Merrick and Artaud.
- I was the muse of inspiration for various generations.
And now I merely ask you this:
- Can I rest a bit?
I don't think so, says the wind to the rain.
And the words discuss on their circles:
- I'm not merely a word, I'm a being.
- I'm a word and a being.
- Stop it, can't we be a mere phrase?
- Where must I release them?
Wind's on the paper...
Salted rocks nowhere and everywhere..
Road to nowhere's straight ahead and the car whispers:
- Where to?
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