Just like a diamond on the forehead
staring at the ground,
my lucid violence is coming
twisting all around,
My quite d***ation is waiting
for a punishment:
the wiser's compassion and laughters
and confinement.
As windows steams on the evening
of a winter day,
or stars keep crying in the ceiling
their blasphemous prayers,
I could still hear my voice screaming
from the other room
and could remember the close hugs
of a tired womb.
I was still living the brightest days,
I was still living the brightest days.
The more you push me to the light
The more my blackest part is bright.
staring at the ground,
my lucid violence is coming
twisting all around,
My quite d***ation is waiting
for a punishment:
the wiser's compassion and laughters
and confinement.
As windows steams on the evening
of a winter day,
or stars keep crying in the ceiling
their blasphemous prayers,
I could still hear my voice screaming
from the other room
and could remember the close hugs
of a tired womb.
I was still living the brightest days,
I was still living the brightest days.
The more you push me to the light
The more my blackest part is bright.