Sliding tackle, punching my gut as noises fall and die,
Peaceful surroundings, laughing, the living air
Is the chameleon's masquerade, the love of words distorted,
The love of letters engraved on a bottle's price tag,
Everything, reminiscent of that ancient perversion of sin
When man laid waste to reason,
Laid waste to ethics,
Morality envisioned
At the bottom of a glass.
I'm imagining the youthful Eldar as a Bukowski-type spirit.