And the clock stopped.now my heart
    You've found the heart hours
    I don't have the heart
    I found a poem's heart

    Starting a new day in uniform
    The wounds that started
    In a new day
    Our endless uniform tomorrows

    If the clocks are cloudy
    Our days are many
    The cello came from all over.

    A blind window
    A helpless door
    What the days bring

    The heart of the blind
    When Rokoko is buried in the bottom of the watch
    Days of snowy and short in the East
    Uniformity when it snows
    One flat in the days
    There's uniform everywhere.
    Hours, no heart, no poetry, no

    I cut off my wrists
    I need to write poetry from my blood
    I must wake up from hibernation.
    The world in the world