Mass produced problems, the shelf is full of them.
You pissing yourself or tread on it, what’s the fate between of them?
I stare my desire, incessantly burn.
It will be lost in the morning, and it’s doomed – it’s over.
Awake in the night, blunt by day.
What sin the dawn that breaks the dreams?
Next day has come, because its to do.
In the next day has tomorrow, but nobody knows that.
by Janos Virag
(Translated from Hungarian version)