Thouching the ground
Cloudy morning cold windows
i can't find the clue
i can't break through flow of letters i left behind
i don't know why i'm here or where did i came from
am i an refugee or maybe saint
where did i came from this
misfit i wear is holding me back
is pulling me down so I'm touching the ground
shoes of fire ship of death
Shiny teaspoon it's self-made heavy headlight
self-portrait kill-less hand i'm keepsake