Life on the speedball
Is like driving your race-car
Out into space.

Survival is not essential,
Though the stars in your head
Push you forward.

What matters if this
Is the edge of destruction?
You walk on it as god.

The days and nights
Control you no more -
You've conquered your body

Cherry-coke wakes you up,
Harry puts you to bed
Gently and warm,

And inbetween
You and your two friends
Take on the world.

Life on the speedball
Is like a supersonic train
Taking a U-turn. Verticaly.

And then landing silently
Into a sea of cotton
And nights neverending.

Sight is useless,
Don't sing your songs to me!
Don't bring me flowers!

You know that
Even though you touch me
I'll never touch you back.

If this were heaven
Fewer would burn
And time

Would stand forgotten
With the feverish anarchies of sleep
At its side.

When riding the speedball
Survival is not essential,
Life is only a definition.