All of my eyes see different;
For if my own vision unkown
A pile of orange isn't seen-
For green grass isn't green
And grey clothes I see, if white;
Drapes and grapes are blue to see

To step I do in wet soil, to knees I see
Earth for sure is there yet underneath
For deeper sensing be it, for dry winds spin
Sirrocos didn't exite for enough hot I feel
And the moon lay down for sun is gloom
Needles grow, and the feeding is done by me

And mourn, remorse, regret yet numb
For I acknowledge not, nor I do feel
For a pile of orange isn't seen-
And the grass onto I caress isn't green;
Cause if not if I see, yet dark is seen
For skin is nothing, my blue and my dream.

Winter and winter, for I have never felt
Longs night, for I have dwelt and dwelt
And has breeze touched and flown by;
And the cheeks have cried for my and my
Do the skin feel, when I ***** and fry
And the moisture felt I have, was dry

True things for my ears heard, for my fate
For lies have spoken my lips, love yet hate
And underneath the flesh, knives crawl
For the pain is not felt, what for I brawl
Death wasn't it was, for I could speak
Mute are deceased, false is my beak

For my fate, it is not death yet worse
Mourn I do is summer and some remorse
Cause winds float for not me rather I know not
Never has the skin felt cold and something hot
For unknown I seem by this strange blow
Numb for I am, unknown or do I know?

A demure sound to ****** my veins,
Only sorrow this heart has gained.
A deep longing in thousands bones,
Heartbeats are blaring on megaphones.
A mile of skin and a thousand veins,
That siren is he trying to disdain.
A caress in ear or a stubborn whisper,
My beloved, my back stabbing twister.
A seducing melody demands surrender,
It says, blood is better off six feet under.
So my beloved, my noose calls,
It says, tie the throat and do not fall.
The blood longs to run in wild as free,
For the veins sream, ***** me.
So demure sound and more and more,
I am making myself close one more door.