Lamentations

They won’t see us anyway in the dark, raver boy.
Come and dance to grieving soundwaves
hitting naked walls of gay halls,
sweating joyful lust to overcome our clinging
shadows of shame.
Like untamed horses, melancholic and sauvage,
our synchronised swinging of flesh to the beat of pink drums.
Nasty smiles blurring trembling of aching muscles,
to hold countless hours of lamentations.
And we march, raver boy.
I’ll march with you, side by side, if you don’t tell.
And when in Hell, I’ll hold your hand,
sinners gaze, poppers rush, I’ll fly with you
but not too high and not too low, no melting wings of Ikarus.
And if in Hell, all angel’s Hell,
I’ll chant to you my moan-début.
All sinners’ banner rises above and,
on a horse, we’ll ride beyond, towards the sun.
And in our ears, brought from the wind, we’ll hear a song,
all winner’s song or Freddy’s song?
I want to break free, my raver boy.