My silence go on
wondering if your tongue
can catch a true out
cracked in my lungs

A past like an old rock
painted with ghosts violets
who eyes go in and lost
beyond not walls, but wicked alphabets

A metaphor ******* with lights
Shining rights a path of lie
to feel me once again whole
in this touch of such an old soul

Revisiting my tight around the couch
old furs within me and without
fancying my mask with pearls
finding myself in this claws

Once again medicated ill of the daughters
swallowing pills in an ocean of waters
dry lips hiding a velvet clear
to crack in the back of my ears

In the end the same lights
where any me is all, your shadow view
to hide the same disguise
of a life without a clue

Do fundo de um poço escuro de água fria
Vejo outro mundo, nele não há divisas
Nele não há distâncias, mas tão pouco vida

Levanto a face ao medo ecumênico
Tão democrático da morte
Neste tempo efêmero igualar o frio
O pavor da sorte dos que os vivos temem

Do fundo da alma, questionei as pontes
Vejo tantos caminhos, entre tantas fontes
Nenhuma delas, mesmo vida que não
leve a morte, deste poço vivo e ocre

Neste ar respiro silenciosamente
onde pestilências murmuram a sorte
Vejo meu passado e espíritos torpes
onde meus anseios buscam o toque

Toque inexistente, pela efêmera morte

We all want so badly to keep eternal
holding memories of loss inside of us
but this violence surrounding us
made even traces of love immoral

We all want to keep fresh faces
inside the voids of our pill minds
remember all the ones we embraced
but the fog will swallow then inside

We all want to have beloved ones
inside the pictures, recorded files
and may distance can seem unreal
but in this divided world of surreal
this memories will punish our smiles

Family is a sick metaphor
wherever I go they are
inside of my lungs and more
still alone I'll wander poor

When with the mother
her rage eyes were upon me
watching the sickness of a father
the frustrated artist or the silence

When with the father
his rage screams upon me
calling the nickname of a mother
like I was the end of a love in defiance

Memories of violence swallows me
The anguish of escaping this solace
Watching the cracks of being
thrown in around it

Memories of violence swallows me
and whenever I look I can't hide it
from this anguish puzzles inside of it
this endless wicked metaphor of
family

Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here

We will build our temples on the stone to remember those who leave, we will build our chambers on our own to erase old memories.

We'll fly to fields of dandelion thorns decorating flowers near and remember that away of tombs there are mountains high and deep

Samhaim, the fire bright in the woods of those who see
Samhaim, the stars will rise from Scorpio's dust and breeze
Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here

We will free our heads upon the weight that stands beneath the wind, in the night the cry of souls will sing for those allow to hear

Samhaim, the fire bright in the woods of those who see
Samhaim, the stars will rise from Scorpio's dust and breeze
Samhaim the brightest night who will raise all of our fears
Samhaim our last goodbye to the souls we buried here

Death surrounding each path
shadows in the back, howling
I see the black cat coming in
and the souls leaving again
once and then for samhaim.

Cada neto tinha nome de flor
as vezes assustava ao dizer
sempre com amor um nome morto,
ali referindo-se a flor que descansa

Cada sorriso e queda ela sorria
da vida breve era a ladra nata
mas da vida só roubara vasos
variados de plantas tantas

Cada ano se erguia sempre
com sua pitula de cachaça
ria até da desgraça, a velha
doce de fala leve e mansa

Agora descansa ali no céu
a sorrir das plêiades lança
da morte ao subir ao monte
outras sementes do barco
de Caronte