EVERY NIGHT HE DIE IN MY HAND | תל אביב יפו

In the end, you need to exist

And at Genesis?

I applied for a visa to the land of the lonely people

I have been told that my loneliness

is not what they are looking for.

Sorry are you a human

Sorry you

Human sorry

You human sorry

You

Human

Sorry human you sorry

You human

Sorry you human sorry

You human

You human sorry

You

*Sorry*

Chained to a room

Under trunk of memory

To loneliness

In stalk of knowledge

Wrapped

To the metallic

Heating bars

Stubbornly sobbing

From here

I will not be taken.