"I'm swimming in the garden of my thoughts,
My heart is planted in a cracked ***,
Its afflicted by the disease of the soul,
That feels like a grinding pole,
My conscience is buried under ground,
Screaming out but I didn't hear a sound,
My legs are writhing in twisted thorns,
And my arms are hollowed out by the worms,
My gleaming eyes are pecked out by the crows,
The only thing left is my tattered clothes,
And my spirit lay chained to a rotting pumpkin,
Tottering around as if it was drunken,
The sun bleaches the bones of my desires,
Seeping my strength and leaving me tired,
My ruminations are blown away in the wind,
As if meticulous hands were keeping them trimmed,
I clamp my ears against the whispering voices,
Their insidious ideas are a dripping poison,
Suddenly I blink, and scratch my face,
I didn't know my mind was such a desolate place..."