When the mountain will roar its heart out in the open,
flowing like death on the green leaves of time,
melting the golden chains of civilization
to free the exiled earth,

when life will shiver,
its feet trembling to the shrilling laughter of the clouds,
raining down, reducing the dollar dreams to a bag full of bones and mud,

when the icy cold breeze will freeze the last tear of innocence, crystallizing earth's womb forever, turning the world into an endless mirror, putting hope to a long white sleep,

when the sun will unleash his dragon, spitting fire through the night sky, when even the eyes of innocence will be plucked out from the last child, to quench the hunger of mankind,

it will the day when we will realise. But by then the price ll already be paid.

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Find me a home,

a small corner that doesn't weep the slow constant decay of time,

a bed of forest where roots never give up in the face of melting clocks,

a bank where boats doesn't flee the shore when the ocean comes raging,

a piece of leaf, a twig, a creeper that can grow in the concrete walls of uncertainty,

even a dark damp pit ll do, if the stinky staunch can put the traveller to sleep.