You think that this night will be the last
the loathsome details of this tranquillity
beyond from the last frontiers of the mother earth
all of a sweat bodies and black murky shapes
Recollections and dirges mangled by the time
the ideals worships of this crude religion, after every dawn, hoping for a rainbow that may never come, shadows which you can't feel
Chorus:
Macabre apparition like a flight of dead swans
unable to see the forest for the trees
Bridge:
An oasis which is not an illusion it will be forever there waiting
You think that this night will be the last
the loathsome details of this tranquillity
beyond from the last frontiers of the mother earth
all of a sweat bodies and black murky shapes
Chorus |
