The routine of my days worries me.
I try to adjust the pirouette of my life.
I try to shift my mornings into nights.
I try to foster love again, he is my orphan and my craving.
I try to be like others, but I'm never aware of the calm wind.
A skin of an alien protects me from life.
I became a monument for blue certainty, and an open coffin, no breeze, no echoes, and no life.