Somewhere in Switzerland, a techni-colored blizzard takes hold and we, us, wait for the tram to roll in. Maybe it was the sleepless nights of the month before causing the illusion, fused with what would have been 50 years ago, narcotics, but now reduced to nothing more than a double-triple espresso. Herald the new rock and roll composers, smoking banned at the tram station, but nothing, nothing else!

(Written in a salute to Hunter S. Thompson)