One step is like twenty steps.
My hands are wet.
I don't have enough
Power and locks of hair.
You gave them to me.
I want to lift the past out of them.
My throat is full.
The city is drying.
I said to Mum:
"God damn it!
Are these roses pale white?"
I'm touched.
The cities are drowning in pale white colour.
Die if you don't love me
I'm breaking hands, I'm breaking lips,
I'm destroying your body through.