Bla, bla, bla...
Bla, bla, bla...
THESE words may be insignificant
for the thoughtless ones.
Who ever can be this great director
of this massive, suffocating band
which creates a soft, sweet, tranquil music
but painful in its way?

Look The clouds join up there
ready for the next Earth attack.
The waves already smashed the rocks:
you missed that graceful moment,
my absent-minded little friend.

Kiss the stones that protect you
from the devil of the sea.
The band's still playing his death music,
still terrifying me.

I'm sitting over here,
on this great carpet of gold.
The sky full of magic, shining pearls,
still down here getting old.

The mind is wraped by peaceful lumps
which I cannot explain.
The music turned from dark to gentle
and blows away the pain.

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