I wake up early in the morning
open my eye and look through the ceiling,

squint over the bookshelf. There’s my blur picture when I was twelve,

My mama hug me in her armmmm...

No one else. Then talk to myself.......


I’ve no money,
not good personality,
everyone shout a “chubby-silly”
grow up to 24 yrs old but no-one stay in the side of me.

But I’m not fake,
I still have 2 legs.
Isn’t it to late to walk around.
‘N let everybody heed my melancholy-funky sounds.

Wowwwwwwwwwww.

There’re thousand pretty women,
that pass me while e’m lying on powdered sand.

Make up my owned hope that one of them’ll deliver me a soft- white hand
and go with me out of this lonely land.