Ascetic and rotten world,

nauseous, barren world...
I must walk you, I must walk you
to found the magic.

World, teach me
your other escence, the shriek for future
show me your prairies, your simple skies
your beaches and horses.

I walk you, I march you
and I cry your disease
beloved world, I am tired today,
and from my bed
other worlds are being imagined.