Thousands of thoughts
That incriminate your mind,
Thousands of breaths
That make you hear the threats,
Thousands of words
That swing gently on mute cords,
Thousands of prayers
That are heard
Sinner, sinner
I’m a sinner
I don’t want to go home
Because I’ll find a riddle
That always gives me a shiver
I’ll find the things that fall in winter
I’ll find the memories of this one
