Stimmung

Who has decided this way? I can't scream ... stuck-throat. A natural image - a stabbing pain in my sad soul. Two separated warm hands, then a look behind a pane, then a wet presence on my face, then the silence of my narcotic world ... Who has decided this way? I can't sleep ... I'm so alone. I visualize your face - and I think that my life's gone. Firstly I see your tearful eyes then the barred doors of a train I don't think about suicide - 'coz I know, we'll meet again. IN THIS WORLD CAN'T EXIST A GOD. SPIRITUAL MASOCHISM SLIT THIS THROAT. IT'S A SORT OF SELF-EXCITEMENT ... A MACABRE REPERTORY UNDER MY MODEST CLOTHES. I think about all those days brushing against my old cicatrixes I try to go back ... to conventionality. But I think it's so unfair ... I can't give a fuck. A bitter shit to swallow, living in costant hate.