My life under test
Is running so fast;
I can't figure out what's wrong.
I'm out of use,
I'm badly abused,
I'm used to be falling stone.

[And nothing can be seen
 Beyond the veil of snow
 That falls and falls on me
 While I am coming home.

 I differ from myself,
 But I'm the same;
 Like grits of dust on shelf,
 Like burning flame.]

My brain under test
Is sick and depressed,
I can't recognize my fault.
I won't be on top
'Cause I can't come up
To anything else but hole.