I was waiting for you, you look drunk.
Oh, it's nothing just the readjustment, your eyes?
You look drunk,
Oh, it's nothing just the readjustment, your eyes?
This idea is sufficiently plausible
In an attempt to account
For the phenomenon the sickness
And the sentence of blood.
I could no longer struggle,
Every moment threatened to be the last,
There was pain, dizziness
And profuse bleeding at the pores.
How is this possible?
The transmission was transfusing,
In a moment the sober eye
Of reason would detect a vibration in the flesh,
Creeping, incoherent, bearing no mark of a human hand.
The vision comes and goes but tonight I saw very clearly,
The vision comes and goes but tonight I saw very clearly.