Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... The OUTSIDER Dude.
DESIGNER boots, latest APPS, Le Nuit-sans merci, kissin the Homeless Soiree, bags of Rags will never get U back to your INNER KID or long-lost Student days of sensual Anarchy!
NO Handouts, Poo-MWAH! -except from some Vecchio-Amore, maybe KEEP U from Kissin the Cold, that place, that gravitas, a Railroad of shunting LOCOS, night-filled with skeletal passengers vouching for their tickets, their Legitimacy, waved on fingers of pure bone....
NO Dance OF THE DEAD, NO non-callusion. After-all, it don-t it make SENSE, I mean, deep down in your Gut!!!
And British ME and Malik, fellow Rockstar, maybe from Nigeria, professes to come from No-place, sucking on Guinness on a Sicilian-Straniere, cold Christmas Eve...inadvertently, and somehow conversant
with the Wisdom of the Universe, and the ghost, perhaps, of French author Albert Camus, smiling down....somehow.
c2018, dave Delacroix, ourmanineurope. Xmas Murphys pub, Sciacca-sicily...
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