Оригинален текст
I'm turning my back, she's is making cheese, she's calling my name
Backwards, she's writing my name backwards.
She has traumatic lack of privacy. My pocket is full of hash
The wall is melting with meat, the wall is air cold like butterfly wings,
Getting outside of myself, purchasing new clothes, time is melting. the
Smell is rising. Eyes open, Space us.
Yellowness and secrecy,
Brushing the floor,
My tongue is numb, my ear is buzzing. and
With blue pen I'm drawing nothing.
And there, she's printing blank papers.