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When the sun will bleed on me

My time will come to be free

The fourth dimension has come to its pension,

Its tension, its imperfection

My fourth dimension

As my body becomes like stone

I feel the pressure in my bones

The physical structure has lost its texture

Its rusty, it’s frosty

The pressure becomes leisure

Autumns Son clears the way

Autumns Son takes me far away

To the cosmic sea where I will be free

Now the sun doesn’t blind

Now the moon is kind

I have nothing to be for I am free

Now the man of falling leaves

Removes my grieves, gives me my peace

Ataraxis has gained its access

Its process, its progress disposes the senses

Cold, lying, ground, cold, dying, ground

Still, no fear, no sound, as I sink

(Into the ground)