I don't remember my face,
I don't count wrinkles
I have never created idols
For worshipping and hating them
I keep terrible secrets
Of those who are gone
When clay knocked their coffins
I was standing alone

If I could see the absence of a sense
If I could hear but not listen
If I could know life is so empty
A curtain would drop earlier

It feels like strings vibrating
Somewhere inside of me
The source of my life pulsates
Deep in inner devouring horror
A torrent of words reflecting my thoughts
Falls by downpour unto me
I behold a world of parallels
Painted by withering imagination
Now I set free the warm of life
Through a door closed so long ago,
Now I get used to feel cold,
I escape this reality Ruined