Holding any meaningless wind?

Who cares about the infinity

or the deep blue sky?

No one climb the mountain

to reach the pure oxygen

and we are not animals,

we are trashed hearts.

Behind our meaning

is lost our sense.

Who try to be immortal again?

And the day, that pick up our destiny,

fly around our family and girlfriend

to make us seen the latest trick of security whisper:

again we leave our hearts to fill in by pressure

the last tense of climbing our souls and we lose

every single memory about life,

and living things are all to holly source

of luxury and success and this writing of nothingness.

So why are we touching some crystals screens now?

When every single piece of earth breaths again

we will not shall climb the surface of love.

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