Julkalender

The sound had disappeared the next morning. And so had my voice. Everything was gone. We tried to make me hear things, by putting music on and turning up the volume, and he screamed in my ear and I tried to scream, but nothing happened.

“I don't understand,” I wrote on a paper.

“Me neither,” he replied.

We found comfort in each others arms, and spent the rest of the day in bed, dreaming about being able to communicate better.

 

If we cut out the bad well then we'd have nothing left

Like I cut up your mouth the night I stuffed it all in

And you lied to the angels said I stabbed you to death

If we go at the same time, they'll clean up the mess

 

I lost my head

You couldn't come

This lust to my brain

almost feels like a gun