Текст (слова) песни «Frankness of the pressthroated person...»

It's my arm and it's my beauteful eye
My compassion and my running sing
On and on I hear the noise inside me
I think to keep it or not to keep
I was born with a beast, with a hole.
Soul is hole

Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me

Blackness... Whiteness
Black pale on the fate

Blister...
Fortune...
Shadow...
Pickles...
Wind.
Take him away from me

Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me