I do not want to see you
I don't want to listen to you
Between dreams I make sure
to run so far
As I can
So your voice doesn't reach me.
While I'm awake
I swing
Between the thorns of pain
I am
The waning moon over the earth
What appears
Sinister and demonic.
I am
The slave of your memory
Poorly formed
Badly done, bad born
You were my star
Now you are just my sweet tatar.
