What are you listening to right now?

Pilot - A poem about a good person It is pleasant to send a good person for export to the land of rising bliss, into the belly of native pharmacies. A prescription replaces a passport, and the body is a state despot, and the skull is a Masonic lodge behind the curtains of sleepy centuries. It is pleasant for a good person to set a trap, usually good people are lucky with a good wife, but the night, this black fool, wants to overpower me, placing the bed as a boundary between you and me. And during the day, seeing a bird in the sky, or maybe soap in a trough, or maybe the sky in a grave, or death in a pharmacy, I am good for myself, having made no discoveries, that day is also a boundary, that in the well of night there is oil. And is death an entrance or an exit?! And is night an inhalation or an exhalation?! And you can stand on the border and be beyond the border! But behind the gates of the courtyard one must not lose sight of this: a good person must be tracked down and killed!