The sour shell has already broken
Like the wave here
Strange is love
That invades without smiling
The pulse stops to think
It's been spreading through the ground
A blind way of seeing
The blood on my hands
What will
Burn
What color
Whose will it be< br/>There's a little bit of me in your nails
In your thighs, the torpor
Freeze the moment you trembled
Your styrofoam eyes
Your pulse stops to think
It's been spreading across the floor
A blind way of seeing
The blood on my hands
That will
Burn
What color
Whose will it be
A strange scent when I wake up
Where am I
The screen feeds on air
And the air of our sound
The night beckons without looking
Through the carriage window
That will go into the past
And only the perfume then
Remember
What a rare sensation

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