Wanted: Professional Dream-Interpreter. Will pay beaucoup bucks.
Blue-liquid-filled syringe, stabbing at me. He, falling down the vortex. Hired for a job for which completely unqualified, sought seclusion in the attic-- my attic. Too many people there, knowing of it, filling it, and anger comes. The ladder up becomes a vortex and he is fighting to come up, actor who is trying to get me. I break the syringe but he keeps on. 'Action' only I will not act, not with this seriousness. And I resent them so much I refuse to sing... fading... into... the vortex and the Budapest morning light.
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