When wood rots, it comes alive

Like Pinocchio’s nose, full of s**t, full of lies,

But it’s alive, soft, losing colour,

accumulating stains..

But it’s alive, full of lies..
‘Cos inside, it’s deeply pained
It feels the pain,
But on the hour, every hour
There it goes again..

And it crumbles, ô, it’s crumblin’
On the hour.. with so much power
On the the hour.. crumbles into powder
Pain, like a grain,
Like a grain, of coc**ne….

Ô Pinocchio, ô Pinocchio, why d’you lie ?
Lie to survive? Huh ?

Ô Pinocchio, come alive
Alive to thrive, come alive
Pino-Pino, come…


Art. Freedom. Politics. Love.

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