I'm history of myself
I'm history
Down to river without banks
And looking for sky's reflex
It's cloudy and I'm glad
My mother loved me far too much
So it was for the best when she died
I'm charged with contempt of black suns
Open the mirror and enter
As naked in my own image
Picture of ruin and mother
Rides my child's bicycle – smiling
She cranes her neck
And want to send me
To her eternal life
It set fire to a water
To survive a love
Can't tell me if is this dream
Or scream of my history
Or scream of my life
Mother, I will be a knife in your body
To the memory of fairy tales
I can't believe love you love me
I can't believe love you hate me

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