In the meantime I'll be sitting on a bench, sneezing at the breeze,
and a dog will be sniffing at my shadow,
and the people will be gathered in one single person,
and that one human being will arouse a selfish individuality. Me?
I'm just going to blink many times as if a nervous tic had rapped me.
I want to see a different side of the world every time I open my eyes,
actually, I really would like to wake up from this vision that reminds me of the end of the page, or a blank mind with no clear thoughts or will at all,
and this lazy heart of mine begins to eat its own beat,
and then it swallows my bones, my flesh, my blood, my physiologic movements, and it's turning me into a breathing corpse,
nothing on my hands to repel the obscure tears,
to avoid the itching of the scars that dig those tears,
the future is just a meaningless word, or I just took that for granted,
sweating help from beyond reality.