Magic of the compact disc
(and why I don’t mind, that things are, how they are)
„Relax“, said the daybreak,
„I won’t give you, what you want,
you think, I’m the evil nightman,
if you like to, folks, you can,
perhaps you need that, but I don’t.“
And I grin below to demons
and say: „Nice, Folks, what you do.
You can count on me, but I don’t even
do belong to you.“
I tell them in a fanzine,
what is grass and what is hay,
they bet, I’d chose „Crashed Car“,
but I do choose „Dirty Day“.
I’m foolin‘ all their magic,
and I drink sacred wine,
for „Crashed Car“ is the Six,
and „Dirty Day“ the Nine.
To U2, to her, and to you, too.
© by Patrick Rabe, 19. November 2020, Hamburg.
(Knowing Rock History can help to understand some of my poems.)