Mirrorball
You're talking fast
You are sight-reading your thoughts
Write them down
On the carpet, on the ground
Put them up
On the shelves and in the washing machine
Where they get clean
I'm far behind
Where your phrase on a fast train
Just passed me by
But at the end of this conversation
At the end of all attempts at an interpretation
I am painting the wallpapers white again
And your thoughts in the middle of a room
Like the lights of a mirror ball
They turn me around
They turn me around
Then I fall asleep