Go on Love, listen to him narrate his stories For everyone is lost here, between truth and fiction.

Pass on through, caravans don't stop at my gate, For here, the desert burns even in the night, with unquenched thirsts: all mine.

Everyone is exasperated the way I haunt my past, So they are closing down the ghost houses, I heard.

Those places, whrere all those hours, I drank with so many so called friends, today, they are smashing my crystal goblets, here you can fling my heart!

If spring ever comes, greet it for me For I have already become desolation's prey.

Now they are stoning me to death, without anyone’s permission, I will wait for the promised coming of the messiah!

You go on, Love, go listen to his stories, You, whom I couldn’t tell, between truth and fiction!