There is always a piano
a wild piano
that chills our hearts
and brings back the image of that winter
that hell
There is always the memory
of a bleeding look
of a soldier lost
in overseas lands
out of obligation
that mission o
Fighting the jungle without knowing why
and feeling the hell killing someone
and those who returned
keep the feeling
that they fought in a war without reason...
no reason... no reason...
There is always the word
the word nation
the chiefs they bring and use
to hide the reason
for their will
that truth
And for them that winter
will always be the same hell
that no one can forget
having to kill or die
at the whim of the wind
in that torment
I asked heaven: will it always be like this?
Can winter never end?
I don't know how to answer
just maybe remember
what someone who came back came to tell me... remember...
remember...
That one Winter