The flames followed the matches and they provided us (two pitch black figures)
With light to find the safest way out,
Way before they arrived with blue neon-lights (to put out our act of defiance,)
To put out what we created.
And hobbling you presumed that no one got hurt.
It’s not called an argument if someone wants his opponent so strongly to be right.
When it was far enough to feel safe, I was that someone.
“The human potential ” pointed out by you in a more breathless than lamenting tone.
Yes, you got that right:
“Hope is a crutch we all need from time to time ”
But no one wants to feel crippled, right?
(Yes, you got that right again:)
“Misanthropy won’t get you anywhere ”
So I decided (just not to be there.)
But “hope ”, this strange word, it still remains a mystery to me:
I can read it perfectly but when it comes to spelling it always reads like “N.O.N.E.”
“The human race and all its great achievements ”, no, never said I hated them,
But plain disappointment reigns in this chest, nothing more and nothing less.
And I got history as witness on my side.
With unbelieving eyes you fell silent after you heard my speech.
The police-sirens sang us a lovely tune, an almost jazz-like sound they made.
But you, you were deaf to it, the warm tone of hope still ringing in your ears.
And at the end of the road our escape plan paved for us, we parted ways.
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