Is there any girl in the world who hasn’t secretly desired
for a handsome stranger to find and read her diary?
For her secret thoughts she dreams to be admired,
by someone to be found, understood, discovered.
Could some exotic prince see in her his future queen,
freeing in this ugly nothingness a very special being?

Any boy who hasn’t ever fantasized
that they would catch this damn Bin Laden finally,
and it turns out, the wicked bloke is actually him?
These shocking news give all the world a thrill!
The mama’s boy, who wouldn’t harm a fly,
has become dangerous like Doctor Jekyll’s Mister Hyde!

Any man who yesterday was with another –
an act of spontaneous dash and mere stupidity –
not willing to give his life for the one never
to find out about his unintentional adultery?

We’ve grown to want so much now.
Now that we are here.
And we want more and more and more.
But tell me, then, before –
was there anyone who wanted to be born?
Any painting – to be drawn?
Any thought – to be a thought?