Just like a diamond on the forehead Staring at the ground, My lucid violence is coming Twisting all around, My quite damnation is waiting For a punishment The wiser's compassion and laughters and confinement As windows steams on the evening of a winter day, Or stars keep crying in the ceiling Their blasphemous prayers, I could still hear my voice screaming from the other room And I could remember the close hugs of a tired womb I was still living the brightest days, I was still living the brightest days The more you push me to the light The more my blackest part is bright