He walk the streets with heavy feet and broken dreams. Woman with the smell of old men on their skin, staggering closer: "Come baby I'll show you a good time."
Pushing off the lust in his heart and denying them the money to feed their kids one more time.
Vomit in small isles, drink up poetry in Vodka clubs. Imagine days when live was pleasant, when the night did not attack him like a rabbi invested dog. He knew nothing about cocaine and music, he was free.
Now he is bound in death.