A faded letter tells my history,
dust, memoirs and hypnotic melodies
Looking over the border waiting for a light,
looking behind the border waiting for the obscurity.
Old memories gather me to the sudden one,
they are speaking to me.
I translate every message of my sick mind.
Old memories gather me to the sudden one,
written so many times by minds and wrong hands.
You believe, I have always been wrong,
nothing is wrong as the judgment.
You won't find future painting judgments.
I will fight up to when I won't be dried, dried of every lifeblood.
I can't now see free, I need to take the street,
what remains of our lives is a wild symbol.
Indecision has created our world,
the mistakes.....
I will fight up to when I won't be dried, dried of every lifeblood.