My heart is a flower
Pollinated by electric bees

The pulsating weather
The vagabond soil

Creates oh! A dangerous vine
My soul is a bastardly garden

Tomorrow brings more life
But what life is there for me?

Dead butterflies surround me
My body is a sick country

Oh my heart! Find God! Find God!
What is your precious?

Do you smell corpses around?
Or will you not curse the ground?