make way, please!

More than a few kilometers away from the humble colonies that surround my home, stands a madhouse. A house of craze, of action, of everything new. A house of the nocturnals.

Where night is the life. Where they feed on ideas, on passion.

On a dull day, they'd use their machines as temporary tools to get rid of the boredom in the air.

They'd play, laugh, be mad. And with the night they'd get crazier.

A madhouse, where I want to belong.

And even being here, I don't.

Lack of passion? Or the madness? Maybe both.

It's the co-existence. The unfamiliarity.

Work? You bang the tables, fuck the norms.Go against the flow. No restrictions.

Deadlines, yes. And they keep them too. The madhouse, with reasons to be the way the world won't let you be.