WHEN THE PAINT’S DRY I’LL BE LONG GONE

Slow is

The movement I’m in

Well everything is in black and in white

Before I’m digested I’ll stare over the rim

 

Sound

Should be the colour of every mind

There’s the micro and the macro

And our tripe in de middle

 

Stateless

When I close my eyes

And I belong to you

 

Flourish

Ending up on a polluted shore

More greyish than blue

The water tastes godless through and through

 

Ask

And you will receive

Be deprived of empathy

and you will deceive