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Autumnal
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The Head of the Worm
Now so much saliva, so little role…
So little time and too much to lose…
Vinegar polished masks…
And poison in the viscera…
Puncture the skin of all…
Have no blood…
And without that red ink…
The future is in vain…
Yesterday is not but the language to suffer…
The jugular is opened in two holes…
Through one the wine escapes…
For other one the pleasure…
For once I felt inside…
I don't remember the reason of…
But I know I must do… I must do it…
(For once I felt growing into your fields…)
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The useless fighting with my devils…
No more war to learn…
As the mallows sleeps in my hair…
In my disclosed chest…
And even in the nails grows the hair…
And even in the guts cuts the ice…
I thought that I could finally born…
That I could deceive the oldness…
I begged not to have to return to win…
At the head of the worm…
Trying to drink me…
Blackened mother one day…
I will own you…
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