The sparkling star is turning off,
Yet I embrace the great disaster.
History, a loop,
A very supple accessory.
A message that spares households;
The totem transforms them into golems.

Meninges, they have no more.
They dig (they dig), I can’t stand it anymore.
I move, fleeing the glory of nothingness,
The silence peacefully extends …

I put a lot of time to lose,
Lying in the grass;
But everything disappears in the appearance …
Right?

Soothsayer lying on a couch;
Tomorrow, listen to each other for a while.
Emits poorly, bad signal.
I point out myself, original.