Nights when words seem blasphemous
And the wine drips down her cleavage,
Your tongue agonize restlessly
And sing the blues as an ode.
The sky fills up to the brim with wine
And draws the rainbow, while you
Still hallucinate over nothing;
You weep for the stars being afar.
The darker world prefers solitude
The pomp and melody derails you,
Your eyes seem drunk with images;
Pablo, time goes on while you write.