Let's leave Being behind us. Let's leave for good this small town called Life, this suburb-World of God, and let's venture into the city headlong, without stopping, just madly Going... Let's...?

What I want is iron, not just to sing of iron.
What I think gives only the idea of steel, not the steel.
What infuriates me in all my mind's emotions
Is that I can't swap my rhythm that mimics rippling water
For the real coolness of the river where I can enter and
get wet,
Which can make my suit drip,
Where I can drown myself, if I like,
And which has the natural divinity of being there
without literature and my PC.
Shit ! A thousand times shit for everything I can't do.
But what !