Look for something that can't be found
Hasn't been found yet
Look for fields of finger-like grass
Ready to be hugged at any moment
Like a dog without it's master
Scarerow thrown into the not flowing river

The circle of tears
I dissolve everyday faster and faster
I feel like being consumed, consumed...

I'm a piece of lard
To be peck whenever you want
Son of a [bad word] All the bulbs are broken
Even the big one
The one everything depends on...
But there must be another way

There's nothing between seasons
Only the night
She has'n changed
The ink like one

Sat on my facewaving its cassock
She did it on purpose
I knew she was without her pants

The circle of tears
I dissolve everyday, faster and faster
I feel like being consumed
I'm a piece of lard
To be peck whenever yoiu want son of a gun

drink of death
The [bad word] closer
You're talking yourself, alone again [bad word] We rest at night
Somewhere under bridges or on the crossroads
Where nobody is...
Open and prepare my mouth in the name of new god
drink of death
You're talking yourself, alone again
The curtain was supposed to fall after the show
Fade away
On the shouting crowd
There's nothing to last any longer
There'll be no enore [bad word] you [bad word] 
No refund for the tickets [bad word] We rest at night
Somewhere under bridges or on the crossroads
Where nobody is...
I see everywhere around the swarm [bad word] Like moths flying towards the hot bulb

There's nothing between seasons
Only the night
She hasn't changed
The ink-like one