Muşta [English translation]

The hum of the night is howling in my head again,

claret snowflakes are falling in front of me!

His mysteries are like Gordian knots, floating in the rooms

His footprints are there to haunt me

They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me

I put my imaginations into words and faced them,

Am I an imagination? Am I a reality? I chased and then stopped.

The voice of the siren is calling,

It struggles more and more

My skull is heating up,

His steps are following me, his breath is winding around me

They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me

He is coming face to face with me, He is knocking me off the balance, He is wearing a glass knuckle duster on his hand

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle duster

I hung up my clocks, my scales, and stopped

Like a fleeing bunny, I was chased, I ran and then stopped

The voice of the siren is calling,

It strugles more and more

My skull is heating up,

His steps are following me, his breath is winding around

They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me

He is coming face to face with me, He is knocking me off the balance, He is wearing a glass knuckle duster on his hand

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle

Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle duster

• Artist:Yasemin Mori
• Album:Deli Bando