Buddha above the sink In water below I drink I laugh you laugh, together In and out the horrible weather. My witness my pain my gain Through the world we did stay sane Hung up rinsed to dry underwear Strewn about the symbols in my layer Dying on a string cut and torn From Kurden-La to Srinigar Cotton thinned and worn Three pairs in a sack carried Slept on floors never married I picked you up in Darjeeling When the women came to sing Followed by the AK74’s There and then closed the doors The armies out the pinkies shout Trapped and hostage bound Hit the ground if you hear the sound of the AK74’s Pants you hardly keep me in Take you down past the chin In the shower no need for a bucket We here alone, fuck it Shall we go travel In our minds dabble With the strange ways earth sheds Sleeping in all those beds I see you there dyeing But like Buddha do keep smiling Pallid room, a view to a kill All this stuffs making ...
De facto is the residue of a memory from an obsolete experience of an unimportant person, that has manifested into consciousness, existing, as long as he touches the individual imagination. Outside morality, De Facto is an illusive oil, navigating around the social auras of current events, creating his own arena wistfully commentating on the experiences of the world, hoping that view seen, incites people to listen and remember so as De Facto's existence can remain.
