Windows, doors, walls and carpets, chairs, tables and flowers, bread, wine,
butter and jam, fries, meat, beans and all spices.

I´ve lost the taste of these things for two weeks now.
I´m just waiting for a cup of dirty snow.

Airports, railroad stations, highways, streets and foggy lines.
traffic, lights, cars and planes, boats, bicycles and walkers.

Now I´m wondering, blind, in the city.
I´m surrounded by towers, made of dirty snow.

Faces, ears and bellies, backsides, legs, fingers and feet.
Sweat, tears, dripping bodies, parties, someone is fucked up.

Now I´m quiet in this snow, snowy country.
I´m hanging on until I am old, just older than now.