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• Artiste: Filligar
• Titre: Ghost Town
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Everywhere he'd look were sentences of books. Illusions moved in tree sap when cattails took a catnap, and he was bored of it. “Why is my world so bland? Why can't it be good?” His mother would get bothered, 'cause he sounded like his father, and leaning over his bed, she took his ear and she said: “Head up around the ghost town. Head up around the ghost town, where nothing ever goes down. But right here only boring people get bored. Only boring people get bored, and they grow to be so as they lay, lay low.”