Boring surprises

I only travel by book,

Since television doesnt reach my stupidity enough anymore,

I see the beaches of France by writers excluded from trust by burning brighter,

An old story was once new for me,

I dream at night of finding a perfect underground rave, only to understand they expect me to die on my own by puzzles and reading the newspaper instead,

I travel to an understanding of what’s common between me and the uncommon,

It’s all perfect talk now isn’t it?

The immensements,

The unconventional morality as always,

Rendered less but by good flavour,

Surpassing the sun I travel by book and deliver you only the prisoners fragments.