I like playing with building blocks.
I want to tell someone about it.
Slowly, I am melting into you.
If only I could go to meet you right now.
If, for example, I was to think of myself as a dog you would be keeping,
You would hold me, soaking wet and pitch black, up in your arms.
Pure white, and looking about to crumble, I love you more than anything.
But I'm dirty, I'm dirty, I'm dying.
I don't have light or anything else to give to you, bitch.
Exposed to the driving rain, I should just die.
\"Here's to you\"
I came to have so much luggage,
That I couldn't even move about, but
I don't know where you are anymore.
I don't know how to go forward,
or how to go back.
I don't even have pain to give you, bitch.
Strinking through my temples,
Dying would be good.
The name that I called over and over,
was my burnt-up love.
Gnawing at rotten sand,
living would be good.
Yesterday, I had a dream,
That I was dead already.
And I suppose that this is it.
At last I understand.
\"Here's to you\"