Кратки проблясъци на безумие

И отново…

So I handed him my bottle,
He drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet,
His face lost all expression,
He said, „If you're going to play the game, boy,
You've got to learn to play it right…“

Но за това май вече съм писал…