The Weird Machine کے بول

I'm just standing in the middle of nowhere... What should I thing about? May be grass, maybe clouds, May be something lost... But instead, I think about storm When it sound makes you a chicken shit And pops your eyes so open... I think about storm, Full of winds which turns heaven Into a desert head down, Head down.... I enjoy people running everywhere, Like ants all across the ground Without no sense… And there is me, Watching like on TV This world not so charming, Like a weird machine.