Poem about the echoes of the past
|Somewhere in the world there is a place where bells are ringing at Catholic church early in the morning,
the smells of dawn and freshly baked bread come through the wide open window.
Somewhere in the world I am solitary walking through the concrete jungle.
Deafen by car horns beeping and all cries and smirks of mental town
Traffic lights have blinded my eyes and I got soaked with the smell of takeways
My head is full of drunken thoughts and electronic music from nearby clubs,
Again I pretended that I am part of that all and I have put every effort to nicely blend into the background,
but deep in my heart
the bells are still ringing ...