Diavola Ice-Cream

We took another slice, slept away, took another slice, another train, arrived on lemon grass, in a godforsaken station wishing we were in Paris, to suck all the glitz and glam of a part of the world, but no. High on the sidewalk, high on whatever powder, whatever hay, whatever liquid, we seriously didn't know and never will. Plastic bags are the sexiest thing on earth and we'll never know the taste of it, if you caress it, you may rest in peace, with chance. We are megakult, we drive too fast, we passed the lights, red or green, we are violence, skizz, and everything else you might guess out of it. We are living like onions without a single dick, free onions in a world of chives. Here goes Miss Pivovarova, on white wallpaper, like a distorted angel caught in a porn movie scene. God may bless Pop and wine. And us, if he, or she, still have the balls, or ovaries, to do that.