My girl wanted money...

Remember, honey. We wanted to be happy and we knew that the only way was through money. We made love on top of the cash when we even had a bed and we were not in front of a campfire suffering from cold. Money is sacred and love is our curse.

If love did not exist, they would never have destroyed the spheres. Yes, those machines where we decided to create our own goods without depending on anybody, without those foolhardy would have to be afraid of having what we wanted without help from anyone. But no, they destroyed all the spheres, there is no money, there is only that of your brother who is east of New York-Ultra, and everyone is eager to having it.

We only have to make love before they kill us. Make this curse that we have invented to have a little attention and distract us, stop thinking about money.

Luckily you are the only woman left on this continent and nobody has any idea about you. They would die if they see your instagram.

You know, everyone wants that sphere of your brother to get the last coin we can invent and go to the brothel of connections, where you pay to have sex with a girl reinvented only for carnal encounters.

I only have to make love to you while we groan to the sound of the echoes in that dark sky that the bombs left us. Kissing you is my worst curse, you cause me all the pleasure that money does not give me anymore. You're everything. I no longer need spheres or rebel against the extinct businessmen we wanted to kill. The only thing I want is to slide through your body all the petals that are no longer in this universe, the ice that ceased to exist, the candy of my heart in your buttocks, you and me on top of our sacred coins.

What grace I have to have you, to walk in search of that barbarism to find a new meaning to life, there is no water left nor the sound of nukss, everything is over. But you just want the sphere. You want your own brother to take you to that disastrous brothel to be part of Neo-prostitution, obviously after he rapes you, you no longer want my caresses in the mountain range of your thighs, you do not want an orgasm on top, like when We were in The Alps.

You just want money, a money that no longer exists, something that you no longer understand. You don't love me anymore, my girl. I love you, I love money, I don't know what I'm saying, I'm dying, I don't know what I want anymore, I see a sphere breaking my head, I got the feelings of...

(...)

FL