Windows, doors, walls and carpets, chairs, tables and flowers
Bread, wine, butter and jam, fries, meat, beans and all spices
I’ve lost the taste of these things for two weeks now
I’m just waiting for a cup of dirty snow
Airports, railroad stations, highways, streets and foggy lines
Traffic, lights, cars and planes, boats, bicycles and walkers
Now i’m wondering, blind, in the city
I’m surrounded by towers, made of dirty snow
Faces, ears and bellies, backsides, legs, fingers and feet
Sweat, tears, dripping bodies, parties, someone is fucked up Now i’m quiet in this snow, snowy country
I’m hanging on until i am old, just older than now