In a world of horses, I would be a bag. In a poem about the wind, I would be a toilet. In a chalet in the alps, I would be nothing good. In her eyes, I will always be a drunk.

In a field in the setting sun, I would be a goodbye. In a beer garden, I would be a parking sign. In a recipe on how to bake a cake, I would be so happy, I am miserable.

In a studio full of artists, I would be the muse. In a documentary on the history of humanity, It would be about me. And in a tale that stands the test of time, I am the fucking man.