Rain on my head
Her tears fall like rain on my head,
But I told her from the beginning...
When I get cold, nothing can warm me,
Not even the hottest days of the summer.

I let her get to me,
But she got lost on the way,
If she could read me like a poem,
She would have found my whole life there.

I hid my heart deep between my bones
And my ribs crush it like a grape
From which I make wine
And let it flow the death through my lungs.
© roxana