Broken glasses, don’t say you are sorry. Right there, yes, right there, straight to the point I want to reach. Lay down and rest on your bruises. Frames of lies, vanished quicksand and bottomless prisms. A bed of roses, red as the dawn…how could you turn your back on me, but I did the same, detatching myself from your shape. Find me the head, I will show you the wings and you’ll realize that words can’t make a realm. Falls of concrete tears are crushing you down and your black eyes are wrap by the empty space that is folding your sould. Don’t pull the trigger if you don’t want that explosion of red filling up your nose. Now I’ll show you the body and you’ll know the root of the truth.