Now you touch the bottom
In the climax, envy
The last breath of the evening whispers
You know what has come to your head
Just take a step and you run away
Silence to the spectacle
In the kingdom of the blind
As a king you can see
The gift of the oppressor in the moment of the shark
The last dance is at the end
For the weak and the tired
I build my grace
From your hard hands
Those plows are not born,
In whose ditches harvest
The chaff is sown
This field is too abundant
Your father inspires
This is what you would reap tomorrow
If you plow my soul
A gift in the oppressor's moment vanishes
The last dance at the end is
For the weak and tired
My grace builds

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