The colour of youth was there, and all youth is
in black and white.
Thinner and shallower
as the wind blows you off
We are the pupils, the innocent souls.
It shall be perrished, and the sins are borrowed.

About time to pause the moment.
Can't you see we're on the rise yet?
Your sickness grows up faster, faster
trying to hold us down,
and the mold of Gold is melting.

Searching for a new tragedy as to it was meant
for any of this to happen, aren't you?
But your mighty wall falls into the ground at last

I shall said;
nothing governs **nothing