Why make last lazy crimes fake what a life finds?
Take rotten times in bed cut another line coz it's all for you
It's all for you
Sick into dreams again;
Two doors in a darkened hall
Light shot from underneath
No sound now to be heard
Make a choice through a sequence
Why save joy for sweet hot sugar time?
Days scream from the middle, begging to be filled
It's all to you
A mirrored camera
One object undefined
She walks in solitude
And dissolves into the film
Live from the key of dreams!
Broadcast from a hidden screen!
Not recalled, or so we think...
So what is left to do, Magritte?