Written into the things
on scattered fragments
we will all die
but not equally
No memory
will pay us back
the loss of the sun
Now it shines
as you need
dries the roofs
wipes the fields
evaporates tears
on your pretty face
makes us happy
I listened to your crying
through deformed perspectives
of two-storey cathedrals
with a solid structure
I don't want to make you dream
but give you a hope
And so the light returned
from a future past
hostile vibrations
hit my mind
many of the latest faiths
asked for forgiveness
In the silent hour
we will finally pronounce
our secret names
