Creep

There is no sense of god to be found on my knees
Where the heart and heat scorching inside of that needs
I'm a creep, I plead for misdeed

The bug smells the greatest from afar
Could I only have its sense
I would feel that wings are shining under her shell
And I'd take the way to the far strawberry bush
And then

I am dropping into your blossoms
Rotting to a swamp
It's late
It's late, I am going forward
Going backward
Going that constantly it's

No shiver haunts him
No color blinds him
And nothing hurts



Credits
Writer(s): Anja Plaschg, Ingeborg Bachmann
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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