The Goalkeeper’s Fear of the Penalty Kick

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I had a stupid dream, a dream I often have
speech-handicapped
But it was the film of a play
and the guy escapes

You can make the bed
I’ll pay this evening
I put on huge false eyelashes
sleeping here till the corpse is buried

Someone I know
He knocked the torch out of my hand
Even talking is hard work
in my dreams

G-L-O-R-I-A, Gloria
They just learn all by heart and reel it off
Now we’re alone
Now he lisps

She tried to make him leave
The darkness in the woods drove him crazy
Tension gets less, and you lose
a dress made of money

It used to be a flame-thrower
your sense of concentration
with worthless things
It’s as if you were cross-eyed

I collect postcards
with a spot of blood on her dress at the back
Yesterday I found 10 cents under your bed
And they forecast a rainless night

The nights are cold
where the asphalt road…
dressed in black wherever I go
The boy’s not crippled, he can’t talk

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