The constellate From the holes in the ceiling And my blurred vision Stretched out like a spring Am I incidence? Am I nothing? Through the Sea of faces we made A faulty memory That I live A face of granite Northern The view felt violent by itself I feel violent now An army knife A back pocket Falling asleep Carefully Placing I fell in You where the granite I was northern views I was violent by myself I feel so violent now Breath in Don't let me out