On fringes of the hair, red dying my hair, free time I have.
A black curtain, darker furthermore to be, It's a fine day in May.
The plate for a kamaboko, two dry cells, to make incorporate on.
On raising my eye's, at a crosspiece of in the restroom stall, Bleeding in black.
On e.o.m., quite empty, ten graves are. Or, on e.o.m., quite empty, graves for free.