The noise of thousand visions enters,
While I’m thinking here,
consoling ideas and discussions,
that I can’t tell.
My contradictions sums thousands,
all I sing them here,
that way I can count up to thousand songs,
waiting here,
waiting here.
The noise of the planes enters,
shaking my engine,
I work to make days better,
with all of the pain.
I see so many lessons fall,
all in my honor,
and I throw them all in my songs,
to make them better,
to make them better.
The alarm sounds and the iceberg falls,
the wait frightens me because I can give a bit
of that unusual feeling, because I believe in myself.
And today my two versions cracks,
In my tears of sweat,
the salt and the life and the petitions,
becomes flavor.
These six chords with six tensions,
just looks like me,
I had passed thru so many tuning,
that it says a lot.
And today we look for a hand without pretensions,
That can make music in me,
There’s a little man with a thousand songs,
Waiting here,
Waiting here,
Waiting here,
Waiting here.
