In the arms of fever
With the arms of fever
That still cover my forehead
I have thought better of it
And I will unleash
The snakes of vanity
Paradise is listening
Fear is a thief
To whom I do not hold a grudge
And pain
It is a rehearsal of death
br/>In the skin of a drop
My wings came back broken
And among other things
They no longer write with ink of light
Paradise becomes hell and
Then it burns
And without anyone moving
Who fixes it?
Paradise becomes hell and
Then it burns
And without anyone moving
Who fixes it?
Generated in my rubble
With a pasty palate
The nonsense of chaos
I defeat myself
With words of praise

INVIA LE CORREZIONI