In the wet frame of these windows, I see a picture of a sad Friday, what a blackmail to the tension of the mourning garment, I see heavy eyebrows in his eyes, blood is
dripping from the black cloud, blood drips instead of rain on Fridays,
I cant breathe, Fridays dont come out, I wish I could close my eyes, this is not coming from me, blood is dripping from the black cloud, blood drips from the rain on Fridays,
Fridays life reaches a thousand years .On Fridays, sadness is rampant, one gets tired of ones own hands, he screams with his lips closed, blood is
dripping from the black cloud, on Fridays, blood is dripping instead of rain,
Friday is the time to leave, the season of heartbreak, he stabs me in the back, he who is with me is dripping blood from the black cloud, on Fridays, blood drips from the place of rain.
