A monologue to an Irish man - Act two

On the route 36:

I see in a distance a cowboy hat
I think: He might be a red-neck from Ohio
two days without washing my faith away
I need a man and I need it now.
The hat comes a long with some pretty big blue eyes
The cards are playing on the table and I still have an Ace
hidden behind my ears.
I say: gotta a fire?
Lighten cigarettes, smoking my head away.
He is drunk as a fish and I, oh lord
I wanna go out fishing.
his voice penetrates a weird part of my brain;
it´s not America;
The hat is not a cowboy.
He talks English but I understand nothing but nothing.
What I understand is what I want: an invite anywhere he wants.
wrecked van, slum pary, dark side of town.
well, off course I´m in blue eyes!
All it was needed was two knocks on the door;
starir away from hell, welcome my heaven;
take me in cowboy!

desasters

The desaster is in a bottle of seawater,
floating elephants in the rain: when it rains it pours.
Desaster ain´t that easy to master, no matter.
Pick a line, choose a time
Love ain´t that easy to master, all in once
love is a desaster.

Nicotine

There are days that
I don´t count or see.
See this night alone
the soul brings
somethig to hunt me.
There is a bottle,
there is a poison
in my case I would
rather call it conscious.
Well there is the time
ticking and clocking,
and there is the truth,
the mind,
oh my the lies!
Well I can´t see no tunel
and its boring light;
All I see it´s a tomorrow
burning thousads and
thousand of cigarrettes
that were sopoused to be mine.

Bunr lost, burn found, burn lost no gain, again oh my...