[Verse]
There is no sounds of god to be found on my knees
Where the heart and heat scorching inside of that needs
I’m a creep, I plead for misdeed
The bug smells the greatest from afar
Could I only have a sense
I would feel that wings are shining under her shell
And I take the way to the far strawberry bush
And then
I am dropping into your blossoms
Rot into a swarm
It’s late
It’s late, I am going forward
Going backward
Going that constant, legs
No shiver harms him
No colour blinds him
And nothing hurts