It’s always you getting the buckets from the stables
You leave them at my foot as soon as I cry from being with you
You swallow the hay bale and close your eyes
So you cannot read on my lips
You cannot make out my foreign tongue
When I disappear in the house my heart a hydroplane
You have to sweep and explain yourself to the guests again
You clean the table and put away the dessert then the fists
So not to leave holes in the walls
But your tears nеver seem to fall on your cheeks, my beacon
They rathеr seem to turn firefighter red
When I become wildfire