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German Overalls
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Mannheim: rainy Saturday with no money nor friend... only Tequila can end the boredom. Try to reach London for a pocket of hope; we're children, we grope in the dark. Hugh spends his last Mark on coffee and cheese... I feel just like a refugee.... Rathaus-keepers and traffic police, middle-aged maids with rotting teeth, industrial magazines and old Sunday Times: reading material/bleeding lines. What are we doing here? Memorial menace, eager for revenge, has begun to bend our minds. Shower-curtain imperative in the presence of acid; now, feeling placid is death. I try to hold my breath as the P.A. comes down.... here we all are in Ktown! The Big Wheel never fails to grind around... it drags me up/it drugs me down. Seven senses wonder 'Can this be real, Or am I become a performing seal?' Why are we dying here? I walk the streets alone, try to find a sign of love. I've crushed the plaster-bone in the freaky clubs. I have bit the fruit but all I live for is to play

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