[Lyrics by Anders Jacobsson, Jan 2002 & March 2002] [Voice of Venus:] Thou art a flower, growing into his soul. You light his silent path of night...
See them tumbling down Pledging their love to the ground Lonely but free I'll be found Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds Cares of the past
Baptized with a perfect name The doubting one by heart Alone without himself War between him and the day Need someone to blame In the end, little he
Sweet little words made for silence not talk Young heart for love not heartache Dark hair for catching the wind Not to veil the sight of a cold world
Six thirty, winter morn Snow keeps falling, silent dawn A rose by any other name Eva leaves her Swanbrook home Kindest heart which always made Me ashamed
[Instrumental]
chang chang de si nian zhong yu duan le xian duo nian de chan mian hai shi shi le yue ni zhou de hao yao yuan xiao shi zai wo sheng ming de di ping xian
[instrumental]
Baptised with a perfect name The doubting one by heart Alone without himself War between him and the day Need someone to blame In the end, little
Baptised with a perfect name The doubting one by heart Alone without himself War between him and the day Need someone to blame In the end, little he
vie en rouge Sur mes levres dans mon cou Sur mes joues Une vie eclatante, Une vie battante, Une vie chantante, Une flamme elegante Pourpre et envoutante D?un rouge amarante
e rincarata e l?estate del quarentasei un litro vale un chilo d?insalata, ma chi ci rinuncia? A piedi chi va? L?auto: che comodita! Sulla Toppolino amaranto
We've been given the capacity to be immovable Breathing in and out our bodies are equipped for this We walk around half there all the time feeling a self
Outside the Federal District 30 miles away We saw the sunlight strike the sundial We saw the sundial disappear Shooting off the river's body Little tributaries
It's so improbable to find the light, When clouds are rubbing me. Words run creating hatred scrawl, Streets have nothing more to ask. When I relive this
Amaranta prega e sogna nomi andati, letti di pioggia ed atlanti ormai umidi... Vento maschio ti scompiglia... entri in chiesa... gratia plena... Chi sei