So close your eyes. There’s nothing more to see.
It’s over and my bowels are everywhere.
I’m in possession of something valuable.
The thing that doesn’t disappears.
Tell me if I don’t think that I’m grateful.
I know my hope is left in here.
There is no air. This room is killing me.
It’s not fair and my bowels are everywhere.
Versus the mirror, will I fight!
Watching my own eyes, won’t loose my sight.
Hope is what’s left of me, when the darkness falls.
Cause then I will loose my sight, when the darkness falls.
What’s left of me?
Less my reflection!
