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
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
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