This article is machine-translated.
10,000 pillows draw on 10,000 dreams.
Before I go to sleep, I feel you come softly.
Forgive my trance. Smooth as skin.
And a balanced noise, like a guiding finger
Let me follow the music and knock on the door.
If tomorrow morning
My head still hasn’t touched the stars.
Rolling, making a boiling tropical climate
My dreams are a wet riot.
The moist air presses against the chest, tumbling and undulating
Those headphone cables.
Thin as silk rope, it will hang me slowly.
It’s like a python crushing your throat with food.
Tender and deadly, silent and resolute
It plays a poem in praise of dark clouds
I hear the dark clouds weeping and whispering
Beneath the gloomy skies, the skies have their secrets
The stars are out and darkness has taken over.
I’ve got 10,000 rain rituals in my pillow.
It’s a wet and warm dream that seeps out
