Oh my baby my little one  |
How romantic it could be  |
To climb the sky  |
Walkin'on a stair of stars, that shining blue  |
And build a hamac of clouds between the south and the north of the halfmoon  |
And *** in 'it again and again  |（
I hang my head like a snowflake-man in a burning sun  |
Because I'm my own ghost I'm really dead, this time  |
I'm dead like the corpse in their mother ***ing graves  |
How romantic it could be to climb the sky in a hamac made of clouds  |
A hamac made of clouds my little one  |