When the heart aches, the razors cut,
The necks to the blood of the corpses fall,
But in the end it washes away all the wounded,
The breath in the arms only,
He kills the people and washes the fists.
This naive back dance,
He won't give us a pen,
Only horrible pictures before the name,
And back steps is not just a place,
Where darkness is the queen of soot.
Suffering drinks sweat and tears from the eyes,
It is a hero from hangovers,
There is no need to warm the face and swallow all these pills,
An avalanche starts in the head and stops our time forever.
Now he is dying in the act,
There is no one anywhere,
Now he is alone and for him only restlessness remains,
And the bloody flesh will,
Keep the memory alive,
In autumn who will take their breath away.
This naive back dance,
He won't give us a pen,
Only horrible pictures before the name,
And back steps is not just a place,
Where darkness is the queen of soot.
Now he is dying in the act,
There is no one anywhere,
Now he is alone and all that remains for him is restlessness,
And bloody flesh will be,
Memory keeps ,
In the autumn when his breath stopped.
Now he is dying in the act,
There is no one anywhere,
Now he is alone and for him there is only restlessness,
And it will be bloody meat,
Memory preserver,
In autumn when his breath stopped.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI