Little Fly

Colour world, plastic world
deprived of feelings, washed out from the poetry
in the damp of the underground
my instincts getting sharp, I mock these times

Feel, what I'm feeling now
Feel, I'm a child child from underground

Truth in dirt, salvation in hands
Here everything is real; I shape time like plasticine
Over there, up on the ground
This world makes me sick
Sugar and Vaseline

Feel like me little child
Feel, I'm a fly from underground