The world didn't open for me, the door of my home didn't open too much
The lock had changed its nature when I hid other countries
The house didn't ask, answered, emptiness looked through the window
when I held the gate fully open, empty my stomach
The sky didn't open for me, neither did the door of the cave too much
There the hair is polished, the mouths are wiped with cloths
and the collar also shines platinum on the butler
At the same time my ship swings to and fro on the shore
From the tar stump I spin small chips
small, thin chips from the tar stump
From the tar stump I spin small chips,
happy thin until I'm dying, from the tar stump
The doors didn't open for me, but neither did the lid of the coffin
The roots sprout a strong smell that healed me too
I don't want to dig anymore, no don't be black at heart,
even if the wind chime quietly plays a tritone at night
From the tar stump I spin small shavings
small, thin shavings from the tar stump I spin
From the tar stump I spin small ¤ shavings,
thin of happiness until I die, tar stump,
tar stump, tar stump

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