The eyes are looking down, watching the feet walking with quick little steps that slow down from time to time, feeling like the gravity is too strong and demanding. And they calm down, the head lifts up and the steps go back to their normal rhythm. But the muscles feel like giving up, asking themselves why didn't that body just stayed home? Why did it go outside with an unzipped jacket on a cold autumn day, with all the heavy bags and heavy words that cross its mind? But it says that life is waiting for him, it just doesn’t know at what time, so let the meeting be anywhere at anytime. So the body holds on while scratching itself passing through crowds of people wearing pointed armours.
Then, I asked myself: what would Eminem do? I think he would say what I think he did, did he? Look at him, walking around, he’s saying that there is worst going on in my parents’ bedroom. But little boys and girls annoy him, dress like him, walk like him, act and talk like him. We have powerful things to share, but he has the balls to say it. I don’t have a mike, because on the stage I would stand higher, my voice could get louder, without being interrupted.
And then, I asked myself, what would Jesus do? They say Jesus walks with me, but since a being can't be invisible, no man wearing a dress will stand next to me without me knowing it. "You gotta feeeeel it." That’s funny, he’s meant to protect us and guide us towards the goooood. Nothing is done by our own hands, they say. So I must thank him for my good moves and stab myself for the bad ones, yeah, cause he tried to help me afterall but I was reasoning too much to believe in him. Little Jesus is begged for pardon when the body stumbles and it falls, but he is thanked and idolized when the body flies. In that case, I’m glad my body doesn’t do that, I’d kick myself in the butt for thinking that a dead long-haired man is present for all the 6,5M people that live on this planet and that he splits the bread for all of them. Yes he does exist, just like Santa Claus.
Suddenly, a piano man entered the room. Everything got warmed up. He says: "Don’t let them bite you, sing us a melody instead of chewing words." But there is some place that I’d rather be. I’m sure I could paint the oceans, if I could get out of this place. I’d paint their sleepy faces and they’d cry, because they never felt that beautiful. They kept on practicing politics, focusing on how bad was constructed the society, and never had time for a wife. "Sing us a song, we’re in the mood and you got us feeling alright."
The harmonica makes a pretty good sound.
