It will be a beatiful day
When everything will stink
And everxthing will merge
Into harmony
Like a squashed one
Spurting obscesses
With a brutal sound
People are crying
And someone is indulging
In an aesthetic experience
Maybe he has forgotten
That it had already rotted
The experience and the brain
That has devised
The sunset
For the world
Where they were singing
And no one could hear them
No one knew
That the sunset
Was the last one