Deadbeat - 6PM

Deadbeat and so airsick,

Without moving out of my faultless apartment.

Desiring to jump on the wagon,

Like those big smiles with legs that I hate.

Since ivory affairs

We started to shiver.

I wonder whose intelligence is artificial,

While I go over my crashes.

If only this could be the chance

To find the hand that fits with mine.

Mechanical creations made

To find the hand that fits with mine.