She is a ant as a tiger touching graves, childhood is blind, waves of smoke,
Ciagarrete in our streets, fashion oceans of dust watches, knifes of tender
Passions, bourning and slepping in wings of churches, hell along green fields,
Walking up in the night soldiers of war, drinking her wine, faith is this fact,
To be a queen, castles and lions, sheeps are daying, but the light is our pride,
Hedges in our mourning, everybory tries to fly while the wars are in flames,
Airplanes are birds, wind is hot fire as a skin feeling the snow, winter is here!

Coming from a desert rose, habbits of white protest, shadows and leaves getting
Down, holes are deeping while the love is death in libraries and squares of
Machines, computers and a eletric radiation moving golden in lonely lifes, quite
Atmosphere at newspaper, blood inside eyes of childs in cemeteries of repression,
A light of a soul in nature, trees in rivers, feeling the air, touching our moon,
Raising the stars at night by this stream of day, scars, following earth at sky