[Verse]
There is no sense 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 its sense
I would feel that wings are shining under her shell
And I'd take the way to the far strawberry bush
And then
I am dropping into your blossoms
Rotting to a swamp
It’s late
It’s late, I am going forward
Going backward
Going that constant legs
No shiver haunts him
No color blinds him
And nothing hurts