While you are burning in the funerarium,
We drink and drink, and wish to be drunk,
Wish to forget,
Desire to get rid of all the thoughts,
That might get rough,
That won't get through,
And all the memories,
And all that won't go away.


In this blur,
Her mom, somewhere, full of pills, is falling asleep,
Her dad somewhere, doesn't know he has lost his girl,
His husband laughs to escape.
I cuddle the wine, wishing to be somewhere, where pain never anchors.
Nevermind her life, as long as we don't feel too much pain.


No one was there to hear you,
but your child.