Like a barber's pole, a swarm mosquitoes round and round, sounds of siren I hear.
A flower a beautiful flower, to grimace his face, to draw it.
In between two her fingers, toword no one in particular, the edge of a razor blade to hold up over her head.
To draw a perfect circle, to purr and roll, a soy sauce cruet does.
Doing a handstand, eyes of the soles of the feet, not to hear this. Or, doing a handstand, eyes of the soles of the feet, to hear now.