"Little, dirty things" - a song for miserable people.

There are little, dirty things in my head,
very little, very dirty.
The more I fight against them,
the more they grow,
very little, very dirty, very strong.

There are little, dirty things around me,
very little, very dirty.
The more I fight against them,
the more they grow,
very little, very dirty, very strong.

I’m not going to fight anymore,
I won’t win
I’m a loser
I'm nothing
There are little, dirty things in my life,
I won’t defeat them.
They will kill me.
Maybe I deserve what I have.

There are little, dirty things in my heart,
very little, very dirty.
The more I fight against them,
the more they break my soul.

There are loads of little, dirty things in me.
Very beautiful indeed.

MY NEW LOVER IS A QUIET MODEL

I did it because I felt very sad and lonely. Yes, I know I had my red marble, but I started to have some deep and mystic feelings and thoughts about the reasons which led me to leave my wonderful boyfriend and start a new life with a red marble. My red marble was good in bed, but, well... a red marble is very limited... poor imagination... null experimentation. He, the marble, was quite quiet, but it was ok (“I like you when you’re quiet, because you’re kind of distracted, and you hear me from the distance, and my voice doesn’t touch you” as Neruda would say). He was great at listening, but pretty bad at conversations. In fact, conversations didn’t exist in our relationship. So, we decided, by mutual agreement, to break up. “I have nothing to share with you; you have nothing to share with me”.
And here it comes my confession: I resorted to a web for singles to find a couple.

So sorry. I feel that I hit bottom, but I needet it and I did it. I didn’t konw exactly what I was looking for. The only thing I knew I wanted from a man was that he should be able to keep an interesting conversation about deep and mystic things, like the colour of the sea and the sky, or why people don’t accept that they’re insignificant, because the only great thing in the world is the world itself, and we’re not naturally part of the world because we invaded it; it can’t pass its magnificient status on us because we’re bad, we invaded the world when the world lived very paceful... we broke its peace. It won’t forgive us for that, and we won’t redeem... because we don’t have any other place to go. The thing is that I’ve found someone at that page.

I love him very much and he loves me very much, but I love him only when I feel lonely, and he loves me when he feels hot. Our love is not mutual “in time”; it’s parallel "in space": we love each other in the same direction, but in different levels. My family hates him. He’s a model. He’s also very quiet (“I like you when you’re quiet, because you’re kind of distracted, and you hear me from the distance, and my voice doesn’t touch you”... what else can I do?) My family says that he has a dirty look in his eyes... and he has bloodshot eyes.

I think he’s just sad.

WE SPEND OUR LIVE IN SIN AND MISERY

My father is playing “The house of the rising sun” with his carboard guitar.

He’s not a gambling man. He has nothing to gamble with.

My mother is a gambling woman.

She spent all our money in a bingo hall: her money, my father’s money and my money, my inheritance, hers and my father’s...

And now we’re fucking poor. Poor as rats. Poorer than the poorest Dicken’s character, poorer than the poorest westerner on Earth.

We spend our live in sin and misery.

We steal, kidnap and kill.

We eat what we found in the rubbish bin, bad, smelly and disgusting things, mainly.

Once, my lovely mother killed a cat for us to eat, because those posh and conceited neighbors of us didn’t have anything good in their rubbish bin.

My father plays his cardboard guitar and my mom has a problem. She’s a gambling woman and the only time she’s satisfied is when she’s asleep.

She’s the most satisfied woman in the world.