City whirlpool I sin. I’m seduced by a lie from the past, from the very first bricks of the very first city: I’m seduced like the others, drawn by the energy drawn by the promise, the paths and the pitfalls, drawn to the magnet of mystic adventure, drawn to a lie, on the run from a lie. I’ve caught the momentum that orbits the city. Sucked in a whirlpool and spun to the centre. I've sacrificed my dreams on altars of artifice, prayed to strange djinn, Position and Fame, where value means money, and failure’s judged as the ultimate shame. And I’ve grinned as I’ve sinned with drugs of remembrance, persuading myself I see through the traps, conspiring despite this with the ways of the city, saying one day I’ll turn back... ...perhaps... And I search for forgiveness in each new sensation that draws me away from the path I’m forgetting and I’m lost even further learning the mantra whose bass wavelength hums: It’s pointless regretting... Sooner than later I forget that I’m sinning and I blend with the colours, fluorescent and twinkling and I’m spun to the centre no longer resisting, with smiles giving into this circus top spinning. |
