Where the art stumble
what mean can be reached?
In my words there is solitude.
Fly against the fire my soul
to get the upper side oh heaven.
Once I’ve left the tongue of my motherhood
in the middle of a vacuity monologue.
We still wiating for the sun to stop,
we cry again, we recall the ancient firehood.
Nothing get us apart, nothing make us leave
our timing. We could go to further lands
but we cry and scream and hide
so then we forget and forgive.