The Horizons The Horizons, under my balcony, are bearing the superior lights of the city, where nobody sleeps. This place, where metals and bones, concrete and blood were mixed to erect a sanctuary for all bad and good, this planet remembered. On purpose all born naturally are equipped with both rectipetality and self-hatred. In this compact universe several techniques are extraordinarily important for those who want to live and to die. Settled Red, Green, Blue are the colours of breathe mechanics. And every breath is a prayer And every breath is vital Morose asphalt, made of souls of those, who coddled the Earth till the comet's arrival is a firm jacket for the lawbook. And every law is a legacy and every law is deadly. My eyes are becoming upturned binoculars And Now things around are frustrated. Naked houses, drunken street lamps, pained prophets are going mad, beating down the sun, waiting for it's reverse. And against a background of all these we are the lost scenery set up for making cheap resurrections every time our minds and hearts awake. Oblivion is the word, the horizons under my balcony whisper... wobbling, the moon rises at the top of the hill. This world is over. This world begins.