The brain cells play with legos,

an entirely furnished flat echos.

 

One chair's feet dropps off,

the damaged brain makes stop.

 

When the smart and sharp intelligence

falls in front of the lobe,

left is only the hope.

 

Then the echo turns a deaf ear,

accusing afterwards where were you,

unless there?

 

The hindsight injures secretly,

rapidly,

blaming; how could you play so stupidly.

 

But, because they share the flat and a companies car,

neither of them is a star.