Now that february insults me more
and the room is too small...

Her lips are petrified:
she lost the prophecies...

Amelie wrapped me up
in her French songs...

As she unlocked the door,
a thousand black stars fell from her heart...

When I raised my hands,
she came tenderly, bathing me...

If you could take off your mask
as you try to learn what is beyond...

You ask me
what I will miss the most...

They never see her
even when she tries hard to be...

Will ever transcend your limited self
and maybe be more than some guy's symptom...

sometimes i'm out of my own flesh.
it is when i get lost between my bed...

Iansan
Lady of the Winds...

Buried alive
The minute I heard my first love story...