Richter: Flowers For Yulia

歌詞

Orange, the fierce orange of the egg-shaped fireball plopping into the ocean as the earth tips backwards towards night. Orange, the scratched orange of the gas bottles delivered for lack of pipeline, dragged to the door by the man in a wig. Orange, the soft orange of two full moons – one high, one low in a puddle mirror floating in a pothole of the unmade road.