We'll return the little box
Into the arms
Of her inconspicuously honest properties

We won't do anything
Against her will
We'll simply take her apart

We'll crucify her
On her own cross

Piece her bloated emptiness
And let ooze
All the blue cosmic blood she gathered

We'll sweet her clean of stars
And anti-stars
And everything else that rots inside her

We won't make her suffer
We'll simply put her together again

We'll give back to the little box
Her pure inconspicuousness