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About Berlin

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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Down by the Mosel river – that sparkling watery streak – is the Mosel Promenade. I walked there, thinking “Fuck, life is wild!” The water glimmers, and it’s like the soul of the city – deep and mysterious. When I stroll there, I spill secrets of human desires, the sort that make me chuckle and roll my eyes at how simple folks think their love stories are.

Football’s “Father of the Forward Pass” Born in Sturgeon Bay