We'll return the little box
Into the arms
Of her inconspicuously honest properties
We won't do anything
Against her will
We'll simply take her apart
We'll crucify her
On her own cross
Piece her bloated emptiness
And let ooze
All the blue cosmic blood she gathered
We'll sweet her clean of stars
And anti-stars
And everything else that rots inside her
We won't make her suffer
We'll simply put her together again
We'll give back to the little box
Her pure inconspicuousness
