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letra de machina mimesis (in the corner cafe) - fall of the leafe

nothing less than the sound of footsteps
condensing into a shape.
sneaking into the murky urban caf�³ of crispy mornings.
realized it was a mirror after hours of work. they are filth.
and also easily lost in the labyrinth of the theory of their
own art – this easily percepted. within the 4 years
of rain it became my own microscopic macondo. it all meant little, if
nothing what is the frase i look for… chaotic dementh.
ah yes indeed. been there before, fair lady? a copper medal i won
at the chill-kill that day: putrid run, salt… torment,
thirst. two fierce feasting parties wishing me warmly welcome in
the aftermath of their own cold war. neo-colonialistic freaks,
says i. tempers increase to hatred and vanish – in cataleptic
disorders. an apparatus of something, don t really know what,
remnant of the good that succ-mbed in man once? the absolute
legion of oddity. now guess what in the world machina mimesis is?

- fall of the leafe

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