when your love kneads me with war fingers
I am the monster which stays on barricades
to touch a feather from the wing of victory
with a martyr fairy hello…

By night I plan the tactics
for the war with my god,
full of perfect shoulders
and I sniff through each pore that victory
from above anybody…

Other gods were frightened by my scales,
by all my tongues
which pagan coil up
and sometimes I allow an Atlas
to empty his shoulders
from the victories he didn`t have,
proclaiming them myself…

I whisper you to madness every night,
do not forget,
I want to pronounce “perfect” only through you
after I lost war and victory…

I counted my battle corpses
and I tied them in “me” letters
up to the ballad sacred to you

and I understood
I am not human
that loves you,

but all or nothing.