O migrant bird, O lust, is full of a world, between your world with me You are your comrade, I think of my glam, I am following the scent of the rose, I am greedy of the smell of my nun Your world infinitely all the lights of the light I have a cold. Pussem, Laughing at why you tell the story Alley behind the earth, on the wall of the broken rural people, with the cobbled feet in front of you a new photo for the old album or hearing a story from an old lover to me, like a life, like a lover I died on my body like a wounded leopard , but I still look for a shelter We should not look like a shadow under the feet like the umbrella of the sun.
