Sad, it's very sad
It's too sad when
Of everything that exists
Everything seems
Of the sad red of the S.O.S.
It's better to be alone ³
I scream in a choke
Help, I ran
To your crazy lip
Lips murmuring, Anyway S.O.S.
S.O.S.
It seems that only this word is heard
It comes from everywhere
It comes from the seas, it comes from homes
From the altars, from the bazaars
Similar alarms are coming
It seems that only this siren is heard
Perennial speech
Inside our voice
I'm taking the elevator
Towards my eighth floor
Who, on the recorder
Will you say they want to talk to me?
Speak só after do bip, S.O.S.
I've never heard that voice
As far as I remember
Walking down to the street
In search of a tone
They all sound the same to me, S.O.S.
S.O.S.
It seems like you only hear this word
It comes from everywhere
It comes from the seas, it comes from homes
From the altars , from the bazaars
Similar alarms come
It seems that only this siren can be heard
Perennial speech
Inside our voice
This is what it seems to me
To be destiny
Does so many pirouettes
And then the handstand
And you can read it the other way around too, S.O.S.
S.O.S.
It seems that only this word is heard
It comes from everywhere
It comes from the seas, it comes from homes
From the altars, from the bazaars
Similar alarms come
It seems that only this siren can be heard
Perennial speech
Within our voice

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