I write in my gas chamber
The madness of passing images,
On my bed flow colors of bad taste
I write without making any tower
That I envy the light of day
And the sound of the waves breaking in my neck
But the tinnitus, the ball that rolls in my skull
Tinnitus leaves me with an aftertaste of cutting off heads
The wolf, the cry of the beast
Drives me crazy
I ©cry under the guillotine
I miss the endorphin silence
In my hearing, the white noises are more and more black
And the air...symphony of wind
br/>I need some air
Play the tinnitus ball like a child
If I could pick it up, tinnitus
I could throw it through the window
Dare to stop the rhythm
Put back together my crumbling ear
And set off again

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