Hello? How are you? Hope you're very well, fine, and dandy and that things are going great for you. And hey, you're just in time for a fresh serving of this week's Babelfishing poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, goof around with the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem.
This week it's from 1994: the Wild Colonials and "Heaven and Hell" (watch video here). Enjoy.
Hell Is Where The Sky Always
At night, you walk slowly.
He told me that there is no problem.
Possessed, I do not hold air.
I tried. I did it myself.
Closure is not it.
If you would like
not to steal hearts,
you feel connected.
Not closed,
you do not want to run.
Do not steal your heart!
You feel connected.
I spend the night with him in the leg.
You can see again one day.
I have no problems if you do not.
I feel light.
I tried. I did it myself.
OK, I have not seen the sky before.
I know that feeling well.
I just said,
"Hell is where the sky always."
Hell is empty.
Where are all the time?