per Maiol de Gràcia
That’s it, folks
It’s all about trying, he said.
And so I did.
But the times where rough and there was no thing to beg for.
Not even a hot soup of filthy shit.
But I did anyway.
And the only thing I got was a backache from walking around like a ghost
nobody could see.
I saw them all but they didn’t even notice me.
Too many things to worry of their own, I guess.
Life can be too tough to be seen,
so I died.
And my story ended like many other stories before.
A collector picked me up and left me waiting in the nearest cemetery.
Looked into my clothes and found John Ford’s number.
Called him and John came,
and he told’em who I was,
and that there was nobody else to call.
They buried me on a sunny morning
And that’s it.