That´s me, sitting on a cold floor. Waiting for the sunset. Waiting for the past, that´s not coming back. I have memories, factory memories that I made in a glass of whiskey while the time was transforming me in a unsightly clown. No one realized death in the bottom of my eyes. While life runs through my fingers, I am just as calm as in the beginning . But time is frozen, and my soul is growing older, every second that passes.. Hope is slipping down the drain.