My mood is like the weather
it changes with unexpected ways
If you could read in my eyes
you would discover a shade of grey
because even when (I am) collecting
my mind descends in my shrine
to pray in front of the candle of life.
And its flesh parts are slowly melting
slipping down like white worms.
(The) walls around are decorated
Each one a happy thought,
pretty but old and lifeless.
The thirst for joy is never gratified
only grows as pain is interrupting our wishes
through analphabet of scars.