Travelling through the landscape I try to see the dust The dust in my eyes makes a violent wing The violent sides are all to gray The grayness of the untold past
Burning skull crying skull could I see your eyes The burning face is getting through the dust
Crying for a deadpit they have seen too much The skulls in their rooms represent their transience The coffin nails had not to be made No one loved them No one does
Burning skull crying skull could I see your eyes The burning face is getting through the dust
Fighting for your own rights you have seen the pain Like the pain in the meat house that forms a violent cry Education and genetic stuff Environment made you to that man
Burning skull crying skull could I see your eyes The burning face is getting through the dust
