I raise my glass to Van Gogh
A bitter toast to Mozart
I roam the streets of cities
Where they worship fine art
I lost my last poet
On a train station
There he bought himself
Two grams of inspiration
I waited by the classroom
Of Indigo Generation
The Bard and the writer
Couldn't pay attention
Few moons from now
My new Dante will perish
While fortune smiles on those
With the paper fetish
Behind foggy windows
My dreamy eyed dancer
Traded her soft skin
For shiny shoes and shelter
Inside pink crystal balls
Clay Pegasus landed
In fumes of glue and petrol
The age of Dreaming ended
The oracle of the street
Saw gray spirits descending
Threefold two pills a day
Cured his rambling
One day men might learn
That Prophets can studder
And angels with broken wings
Don't shout from the gutter
