In the existence of time, breath of time, your fingers, arms, stretching to me...
your fingers touching my face, blindly...slowly..I`m made from special glass, you say,
you never can touch me inside...but you see inside me..you telling me :your thoughts are transparent, your skin is so thin, i can see the clouds in your head, remember Magritte? I can see the milk in you, the life, the tears, i see your body from inside...
can you feel all this space ? it `s so huge, out of the time...
can you feel my injuries, blood, organs, bones...
can u feel my time, creeping slowly from me.
without even words, the silence between our times
is enough
remember the head of the death woman,
my century? death from stones, open eyes
she was death even before...
this woman could be me, this woman Is me
under the stone pile,
some red strips of blood on her head...
is that me? this is decor ,but for real
theater of our actions, just I don`t see
where is the word : H U M A N
out of time
your fingers touching my face, blindly...slowly..I`m made from special glass, you say,
you never can touch me inside...but you see inside me..you telling me :your thoughts are transparent, your skin is so thin, i can see the clouds in your head, remember Magritte? I can see the milk in you, the life, the tears, i see your body from inside...
can you feel all this space ? it `s so huge, out of the time...
can you feel my injuries, blood, organs, bones...
can u feel my time, creeping slowly from me.
without even words, the silence between our times
is enough
remember the head of the death woman,
my century? death from stones, open eyes
she was death even before...
this woman could be me, this woman Is me
under the stone pile,
some red strips of blood on her head...
is that me? this is decor ,but for real
theater of our actions, just I don`t see
where is the word : H U M A N
out of time
