Niila – Das Labyrinth
If this chimney moustache keeps on glancing gleefully over at my rockin’ out head, I will breathe in all his restlessness and I will become him, I will still be him when I get back on the bus and I get to wherever I’m heading, when my head’s on the pillow, I will have an unpleasant moustache and I will still be smoking. Bwaaaaaahg! I get up, out of the sticky double bed, open the door, the front door, fingers slimey from the hull of my voicebox spread open, arms above my head, and it’s all smashing glass bubbles behind my eyes, EVERYTHING’S SHIT! What an exclamation to greet the newspaper-sellers and the clipboard-holding penniless poorly. EVERYTHING’S SHIT! Before I know it I have my hand grabbed by some fellow angry man and a flustered woman, lovers at 11 o clock. For 4 minutes they run me along the streets, bellowing, crying and I stay startled, following their furious feet, my brow becomes ever more a crumpled blanket of my bemusement. And upon our togetherly grabbing for breathe, the lovers and I at the busy junction, our destination, I realise they’ved guided me through an angsty torade, Labyrinth by Niila, a fleeting heart-flying flood of melodramatic exclamation, the recommended medicine for certain moments! Certain moments of melancholy!