The waves of intoxicated clouds,
Rifled with the gun powder,
At the labels of green dark stripes,
Where we sat like bloomed flowers.

The light from the far beyond,
Has stood on the sublime figure,
Where the lost place dipped in silence,
Has been warmed by my sweater.

Thy the alchemy of nature leaves,
With a rift of that muse hemp,
Has stood this night's track,
And the eyes smiled as an oil lamp.

The night's tale has rowed to my old memory,
The storm has had a swift end,
Through hard life, and surrenders,
I still miss those guilty cents.

Its like a chorus of that song,
The change of the night star,
Swimming in that far seeking beauty,
With the slow strums of a guitar.

With all the troubles left behind,
In this lease of the true life,
Like an anxious traveller,
In all new adventures strife.

This earnest new touch of life,
In the untouched dark moon,
Has stepped in this crazy light,
Holding the map to the blue lagoon.

The hands were always *****,
With all the tricked mess,
The sea was always the deeper jump,
Yet the stars dressed to impress.

For the metal hands were ever rusted,
For this life was like carved stone,
Always beaten with hardness,
And walking out a sharp firestone.

The night is young,
With all the zombies gone,
Take me to the age of old hypnotic songs.
The wolves are dead,
And all the turtles fled,
Take me to the shadows of a cold river bed.
This blood has fought all the battles through,
The knife has stood on the cycles of truth,
For we don't know, for who do we stand,
For we are the strangers of this neurotic land.

End of the show (lyrics)

Verse 1
The touch of your cold skin,
Has led to a daydream.
Swimming in wrong sea,
Hoping to run free.
While I am the one drowning,
Babe, do you hear me sing?

Chorus :
Girl you could be my rainbow.
And skies, the host of your show,
We would ride in the sunglow,
And kiss when the cold wind blow.
So girl would you be my rainbow?......
Would you hold till the end of the show?.....

Verse 2
The depth of your blue eyes,
Has been a new sunrise.
Preaching me wrong faith,
Like beauty of blue skies.
While I am the one listening,
Babe do you hear me sing?

Chorus;

Girl could you be my rainbow?
And serve the beauty we know,
We would dance in the halo,
And miss the dark when we glow.
So girl would you be my rainbow?...
Would you stand till the night passes on.

The morning cigarette,
With a cup of igneous coffee,
On an early winter morning,
Alleviates the morning high,
Like the smoke from molten lava.

The immature ride to the vacant highway,
The zephyr gust from the near mountains,
Touches the juvenile jacket
And through the quietus of nature,
The wings inside sails away.

The green undertone of cannabis,
It's a rational sensation,
With every roll the paper silhouettes,
Like a shotgun of peace,
The buds displace on the white face.

The rejuvenating smoke calibrates,
Through the dry pipes,
And layers the ravenous soul,
Like a honey bee,
Pouring the golden sugar,
Into the barren depth of an empty bowl.

Like a centaur with tenacious wings,
Accelerating with the air,
Feeling every loop of a fresh wound,
Riding from north,
And taking the fear out,
Like a first raindrop to hit the ground.

The first time you turned up,
Like a moonlit star behind me,
This bankrupt man felt all the love,
That was missing in this forlorn fee.
That sound of your shoes coming up,
Leaves me in this delphic hold,
Like a fire burning rough,
Like the warm coffee on the cold.
The air is lingering for your touch,
To smell your cold loving skin,
You're the math of this nerd heart,
You're the Queen of the scene.
This secret side is breathing love,
While you keep sinking ships at sea,
The way you smile is ever enough,
To keep me stuck at this daydream.
A song of young hearts and strawberry crush,
All it could ever be,
Through smiles and a hungry soul,
I' would live a lifetime on the lips I'd see.

What strange memory serves this fate?
Why the silly sheep has lost its way?
In subterranean dungeon lies the secret,
Guarded by the wicked wolf, they say.
The Oracle of the high priest,
Along the testaments of old gods,
Has told the tale of an Apocalypse,
A due judgement against our odds.

The sulfurous land has grew a thorn,
Right in the sane hearts of men,
Like a wildfire in a scorched summer,
The lost sheep led to the lion's den.
Through these seasonal dark days,
The pristine shots of old Bourbon and the sour taste of a lemon squeeze,
Over the pages of a forgotten book,
Were now the ghost under cease.

For this old eyes has seen the waves,
That broke us down like a beach tree,
With nature bells once we played,
Now they became our arch enemy.
Through civilizations we pursued,
Shallow contemporaries and history,
We forged nuclear swords on wooden fields,
And reap the fruits of downhill misery.

We treasured the featherbrained ways to progress,
And recklessly stroke the beam of balance,
For we waged the song of disasters,
To now sing in this sulfurous silence.
As the blue water has turned to air,
The green leaves dyed themselves brown under drought,
The soil poisoned by the radioactive breeze,
And to our miseries, we all laughed, we all laughed.

So won't we plunder the right actions,
Course the way to a changing surface,
The secret of everlasting existence,
Lies in the red flames of the old furnace.

The sheep was rescued by mere chances,
For the lion was not yet born,
For this looming night is still to come,
As the world hangs on that silly thorn.