Illusions

"Barman, it's another jack, please." He lights a cigarette and grabs his guitar. Takes a drink of his jack and starts playing. In every chord he leaves all of his feelings and, like by magic, all of his thoughts disappear. It wouldn't matter what would happen while he's up there in a controlled state of dementia... He couldn't care less about his problems... The guy who he knows is nothing going to pay for is job, the bitch who wants to fuck him, the fact that he is going to be alone at the end of the night... While he's there, he is his own god and the laws of the universe are only applied to his weak and fragil body... His mind is elsewhere... Where is it? He doesn't know and doesn't care about it. Untill he stops playing... He opens his eyes and tells to himslef, "I don't wanna be here..." Asks for a refill, takes another drink, lights another cigarette and before he playing again he asks himself, "Where am I going this time? Will I ever know?"