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And when my eyelids are hold by my fingers
and by strenght i split then hardfully
my lips at once by dextrous hands of reality
are stiched by the thread of resignation

And when i blow my nose into a bottle,
i inhale the fog of odour
a tar alternates the blood, because my nose
is already clogged with dextrous hands of reality

And when i pull headphones off my ears
to listen out for the news from afar
my lips at once by dextrous hands of reality
are stiched by the thread of resignation

I also don`t eat and i don`t drink at all
- as my mouth is stiched up.
I don`t touch, i don`t grab
- as my hands by sewing are absorbed

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