…….
In the canals of Mokum, my love,
I am drowning every Monday and come back to life Friday night.
……………..
The peace is the absence of life,
and the wind blows strong,
almost angry with us.
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In the canals of Mokum, my love,
I am drowning in the shallow waters of the ‘’many’’.
……………..
Waiting for Tram 24, Monday morning,
a bell sound, the scary roller coaster to reality,
where dreams go to die.
……………………..
In the canals of Mokum, my love,
I have a book full of hope in my backpack, beating fast like a young boy’s heart, reminding me I’m still alive.
………………….
The sun is gone for days and
the nights have no moon.
The heavy rain reminds us we live in the wooden white attic, as little sparrows nesting in the storm.
………………….
In the canals of Mokum, my love,
the boats are full of weird happy people with cameras, looking at us.
…………………
In the canals of Mokum, my love,
truth feels like sin and money feels like, the truth.
Aris Xarchakos 