I always fall at the same places,
Same black holes of madness.
I plant my head in the sand
To inlarge this feeling we call loneliness.
Most of the time I'm busy hunting the past
Which leaves no hope
For the future.

The radio rebels against the rules I set
And against my will shivers the air
With light jazz music.
And maybe he's right this time
And I need to go back to devious ways
I didn't walk in yet.

I light another cig
As a memorial to my dying health,
Smoke covers trails of regret.
I always fall at the same places,
Same black holes of madness,
Which leaves no hope
For the future

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http://stage.co.il/Stories/287969