Untitled

i live in a dream
show me
the truth
i dont get reality
poverty speaks
from the normal things
like cigarettes in the night
and the brighter
mind of that
which is hidden there in the day
when the night says
everything's okay
that good dream
that sells not
except for kids and sick ones
in the hells or bells
or church shells somewhere
the priest smiles
and knew it, he once hated me
or said, this was expensive...