Look for something that can't be found
Hasn't been found yet
Look for fields of finger-like grass
Ready to be hugged at any moment
Like a dog without it's master
Scarerow thrown into the
not flowing river

The circle of tears
I dissolve everyday faster and faster
I feel like being consumed, consumed...

I'm a piece of lard
To be peck whenever you want
Son of a bitch
All the bulbs are broken
Even the big one
The one everything depends on...
But there must be another way

There's nothing between seasons
Only the night
She has'n changed
The ink like one

Sat on my facewaving its cassock
She did it on purpose
I knew she was without her pants

The circle of tears
I dissolve everyday, faster and faster
I feel like being consumed
I'm a piece of lard
To be peck whenever yoiu
want son of a gun
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A drink of death
The horizons comming closer
You're talking yourself, alone again
We run
We rest at night
Somewhere under bridges or
on the crossroads
Where nobody is...
Open and prepare my mouth in
the name of new god
A drink of death
You're talking yourself, alone again
The curtain was supposed to
fall after the show
Fade away
On the shouting crowd
There's nothing to last any longer
There'll be no enore
Fuk you assholes!
No refund for the tickets
We run
We rest at night
Somewhere under bridges or
on the crossroads
Where nobody is...
I see everywhere around
the swarm of runners
Like moths flying towards the hot bulb

There's nothing between seasons
Only the night
She hasn't changed
The ink-like one