PARA THIN ALOS 23AVRA
ALL FOR THE BEST
Of rooms twenty six to twenty eight,
There is not much this summer to narrate,
I paid a short visit to the top,
Some tourists I was helping with their gear,
So many tourists passed, year after year,
I thought, "do not go in, you better stop".
I turned the light on in 28,
The night was dark and it was pretty late,
Nothing the same, a fugitive my glance,
These changes our essence have demolished,
Our tale seems redundant or abolished,
The recollections came, an avalanche.
Oh hell, it isn't the time or the place,
These things belong for us to outer space,
Suspended in eternal lonely trip,
I said to those Italians, "Benvenutti!
A bella Grecia cosi fun tutti".
So, nothing left to do, I went to sleep.
I'm sleeping and the tale goes on narrating,
Improving on this mental masturbating,
The Scorpio with Antares going west,
No, I'm not sleeping, everything in tantrum,
I think I miss my wife and county Antrim,
Be as it may, it was all for the best.
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