Every sip of coffee puts a smile
on the morning stories
but once in a while nausea hits
the sleepless man.
Dragging memories through ashtrays,
smoking cigarettes with trembling hands
not knowing where it ends or where it started
floating on the smoky air with no plans,
our songs were uncharted.
Without heroes it’s hard to understand
what’s good or it’s bad
who’s the villain in disguise
the madness in the coffee foam.
Our mistakes were beautifully shaped
in a silent harmony
hidden in the morning aroma.
