The hangover remains since yesterday,
and so does my vomit on the toilet's wall
I wander around like a zombie in the monotony
All the time, I meet new faces, which bothers me
The bandage reeks of scar-liquid and pus,
but I'm unable to stop smelling on it continually
The wind is blowing cold, and I feel like jumping down
amongst the [bad word] ice-cubes
I've sent you a postcard that says "Farewell".