Flicker Tomb

The floor-boards still ME-mo-rize the SHAPE of my PHO-BI-A,

Years of dead STA-tic,

now a SI-lent U-TO-PI-A.

Sweeping the BRO-ken GLASS from the COR-ners I SHA-dowed IN,

The bruise on my CON-science has NO-where to GA-ther IN.

Les murs se sou-VIENNENT,

mais je CUT out the MEM-O-RY,

Le froid m'a sculp-TÉE,

I re-WRITE the TRA-JEC-TO-RY.

SYS-tem WAR-ning: TRAU-ma file

de-TEC-TED. TRAU-ma file:

Le code est RÉ-é-CRIT,

the SHA-dow is FRA-CTURED,

I am the MOR-ning that KEEPS the light CAP-TURED.

Je ne suis PAS the REM-nant,

I'm

NOT the DE-TRI-TUS, I’m the ar-chi-TECT of the BONES that de-FINE US.

Se a-ca-BÓ la SOM-bra,

se BO-rró the AN-GUISH,

Mi pro-pia MA-no writes a BRAND NEW LAN-GUAGE.

Tiguidou.