[Verse]
There is no sense of god to be found on my knees
Where the heart and heat scorching inside of that needs
I’m a creep, I plead for misdeed
The bug smells the greatest from afar
Could I only have its sense
I would feel that wings are shining under her shell
And I'd take the way to the far strawberry bush
And then
I am dropping into your blossoms
Rotting to a swamp
It’s late
It’s late, I am going forward
Going backward
Going that constant legs
No shiver haunts him
No color blinds him
And nothing hurts
Creep was written by Anja Plaschg.
Creep was produced by Anja Plaschg.