Return to To The Sweet Home

If I try to convey an impression
Of daily lust and daily passion
Why not to you? Why only to me?
Because in the end God seemed to set us free?

But wait, there is no answer, the dust should settle
On the breakeven point of our border kettle
(Slowly whispering his steam into our thirsty tongues
Full of skin and stories and bones)?

Noone knows, come back and leave us
To the slowly rotating floors.