When the cicada sings
You will die under the cumulus cloud
When the cicada sings
You will die
When you die
Your aborted fetus'll celebrate a funeral
When you die
I want you to bring to me
Flowers from the beyond
In your pocket, hide those bones
That you don't want anybody to touch
Storm of moans
It shouts
Storm of moans
It cries
And a summer day
Dressed in a suit of flowers
Suddenly - Dies