A drunk man condemned to wander in his head
with a recurrent lady taking the show, lost in London streets, lost in the dungeon of her lips,
what's the gentleman duty when her neck implores
the mercy of his breath? what's a lady's correct behavior
when her inner impulses supplicate more
of their unspeakable affairs? make the step, come with me
they knew the indiscretion, but trees can't speak
maybe between walls they can live....