We watched the slow dying of the flies..
Of my dreams which slowly
Soundlessly grows around me
A wolf stood on the street when it broke into pieces.
But the journey had no destination NO PARKING
The theatre of my death
Was open when I stood between the mountains
In the circle of dead comrades on the stone
And over me the expected airplane appeared
Without thinking I knew
This machine was
What my gandmother had called GOD
The air pressure swept the corpses from the plateau
And shots rang out in my twisting flights
I felt MY body transformed into the landscape
Of MY DEATH
IN THE BACK THE PIG
The rest is lyrics who has sharper teeth
The blood or the stone
