Christine [English translation]

I start books at the end

And I put my chin up for the smallest thing

My eye is crying because of the wind

My zoning out is intentional

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down…

It doesn’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

It doesn’t make sense

Beneath my feet the sky comes back

They smile red and speak gray to me

I pretend to have understood everything

There’s a guy who is crying outside

On my face, gold dust

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down…

It doesn’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

It doesn’t make sense

Beneath my feet the sky comes back

We and “the man,” we’re out at the moment

Worst than just a half, we count for half of a half

Right on the roadside, like origami

The outstretched arm seems broken, it’s all just chaff and splinters

Those weird children

Spit out as if by chance

Hiding the effort in the scratching post

And a creepy song as a battle standard which goes:

“I do all my make-up

with Mercurochrome.

Against the pop-ups

who guarantee me the throne”

“I do all my make-up

with Mercuochrome.

Against the pop-ups

who guarantee me the throne”

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

I don’t make sense

The sky pours down…

It doesn’t make sense

The sky pours down on my hands

I don’t make sense

Beneath my feet the sky comes back