You fly, or rather float, drift Through an enormous dark room A room of noises Endless shimmering glissandi Crackling pizzicato Coal black, turbulence holes of bass drones But otherwise empty No planets, no meteorites If anything, perhaps fine dust clouds of exploded music You float there, somewhere between pleasure and fear In a piece of time you can't determine You're everywhere but in the present Hey you disappear further and further Into these incalculable rooms And your personality fades away Your features evaporate, your body decomposes And your last thought is that you have become a noise A thin, nameless noise among all the others Howling in the empty dark room

Mniej