I got stuck, among scraps of my mind
I'm a ruck, overwrought all around
One trace, lubricates by
The essence of mine
Turn piece, of chronological chain
Moment which has no name
Short space, eventually last
But has no past
But has no past
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
I got stuck, among scraps of my mind
I'm a ruck, overwrought all around
One trace, lubricates by
The essence of mine
Turn piece, of chronological chain
Moment which has no name
Short space, eventually last
But has no past
But has no past
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
No words to collect
'Cause they lubricate
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