Listen to the footsteps,
	where are the people?
	Oh-- You can't see them, only the footsteps.
		You can hear the legs,
		You can smell the feet.
		...but no people.
Listen to the silence,
	where are the people?
	Oh-- There they are.
		You can see the clothes and shoes,
		...and the people outside them.

The man moves by the window,
	What the hell does he want?
	Can't he see that the window is closed?
		I just can't understand people anymore.
		If you want to jump,
		Just open it,
		Don't stand there or walk back and forth,
		I mean why not take a seat and have some wine?
			It's all about breathing,
			You know,
			Just forget about the windows.

Walking on the street,
   with the purpose of not having a purpose,
  all of sudden,
        a familiar smell from childhood,
       leading the way to a table nearby.
          The people around the shuttle,
         are never idle,
		Why not join them?
		 The sun is preparing for her nightcap,
		  you are not invited,
		   might as well enjoy it.

						Color, red
	cast away the dread.
						Color, blue
	gloom goes adieu.
						Color, yellow
	fling like a cello.
	
						The rhythm,
				Oh, the rhythm of life,
		For such a beauty to thrive.

                 Rock on the motorcycle, my man.
                                     What gives?
               To shine and refine a work horse,
                         For the upcoming roars.
There will be chaos, like the ones on the couch,
                    Smell of rubber and leather,
                      Stained by oil and grease.
              Turn on the engine, it is profane.
            The holy feeds on barrels of octane.
                Oh, the night is barely passing,
                  Hit on the pedal HARD, my man.

It's getting late,
	you are waiting for the wind to leave.
But it grows strong,
	and you've lost your way.
Looking ahead, not too much to see,
	even the leaves are falling asleep.
The wind starts to slow,
	and there, a mist starts to glow.
The glow fades apart, and you realize,
	it is early in the morning,
and how you wish - that wind and mist would never go.

Wet
	Is walking on the beach with your hands.
	
Humid
	Is rolling on the beach with your body.
	
Sweat
	Is running on the beach when raining.

Washed
	Is napping on the beach in a wet, humid and sweaty day.

Oh Moon!
Oh More Noon!
Oh! We have travelled far!
Oh! We'd be there soon!
Oh! What a beautiful planet!
Oh the times!
Oh the thrill!
Oh! To forgo your past!
Oh! To embrace the new!
Oh We are here!
				Oh!

	A fine night,
		Suitable for mooning,
	Under the light,
		It is round and soothing.
	No one is in sight,
		Time for some grooving.
	Sit down for a bite,
		Just enough for oozing.
	The night shines on the white,
		Reflexing the cooling.
				Alright, let's get going.

Not a good idea to tell the wife,
	The man opens the door and closes it.
		Let her have it,
			You are getting old.
			
			



Not too bad,
Better than the dinner last night.