The Summer I

Simmered simple in the sand,

No tongue- tied

Mum and dumb,

The comb, it just

Found itself in my hand

I stood when I

Should I run.

A conspiracy

Those fellows and me

And the comb, the way it's going

Hardly I

Hardly I

Hardly I knew him

But he had to die.

To establish

Whereabouts, where for?

If guilty, flawed or more

The world would find me

Sprawled on the floor

A vulgar foreigner

A conspiracy

Those fellows and me

And the comb, the way it's going

Hardly I

Hardly I

Hardly I knew him

But he had to die.