As far as I know, it was a grey November day. In 1959 when it began. My mum used to wash all my tears away. Trying to protect her little son. . I was supposed to be a doctor.
When the night falls. I lay my head on shallow ground. Covered by the sand of desert dunes. I will be found. . Write your name. With fingers in the sand.
I'm stuck here in this traffic jam. Surrender to the news at ten. Talking, they're talking. . A president shot from the roof. Our dreams were never bulletproof.