None was there
Except some birds and insects
Over my head
Floating freely on the lap
Of the wide and high
And kissing the winds
The cloud lets
Soft and passionate,
Below standing
Me the tragic hero
With stern face
And red eyes
Ready to do the action
To punch to kick
To whip and beat black and blue
For the every vices and evils
He had been or used to do
I would not let him go scot free
To come back to me to accompany
So I pushed him into a bottle
And threw him into the river
The instigator, the provocateur
I the alter ego break up with you for ever!