- cifra
She ran into the wall
So sweet and unknown
A worn comatose
After six milograms
We're talking again
Who would know
Sweet and so low
Who would know
My brain doesn't produce any
I'm soaring without anything
She said i'm taking my time
And now we'll move on with everyone
I'll see my friend soon again
My brain doesn't produce any
I'm soaring without anything
We said aloud
That we can't pull out
