Nonsense drives forward in clashing blind walls
step by step on the surface of my floor
where a landscape starts and returns
I sightsee in monotony
by way of rehearsal for outdoor life
I have nothing to do with me
'cause Iron I prefer a few feet square
to live on and deliberate
upon the profit of global séances
on losing myself in reverie.
Some sense drives backwards
while talking to the wall
an Iron I for an eye
to the trotters I declared blind
where Antarctica evoked on the parquet
makes room for another image
by way of choosing for indoor life
I've to know all continental limits
iron I divide my love in a cube
get circled in my shade
with the corners as companion
we laugh echoes at any rate.
