The smell of an old newspaper
pages of new are burning

Neon light are still yelling in the night
We’re following the noise of footsteps
that just in front of us

While we’re climbing up to the
dark  stair corridor
another level of anxiety
the soul is breaking through the
sweet fumes of primitive forms of life

In the big port of Poseidonia
with the determinant breath
of King Wind
rise the bride of a new life
born a child that breed us
in his hands

Can’t see her
Only me
And I’m is you

The iron line seems to be endless
The eyes are vanishing while seeking the deep
In time you wondering which arriving