Passing through a town in the desert
Two rows of coffee on the dusty road
So quiet and silent
The bus passes by
Used in the place of their birth
Hot summer ends, in bloody sleep
Cool bottomless wells
Leaks in refrigerated testicles
The sun goes down suddenly
And the lanterns flicker at night
They do no harm
They are in their native land
In a mountain top
Snow a girl like a branch in gold
As dark as Mount Munzur
Laughs in the pocket
The world does not freeze for them
They do not know the fatigue of the road
Their voices find an echo
Always from the same rock , from the same time zone
They will go to China and Macin in their dreams
They will be in their birthplace

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