There at the borders
Cold and rigid guardians dressed of no life [bad word] and run in circles
Till the world stops spinning round [bad word] in circles, and the world as we know it, spins in silence)
Till remaining breathless, panting
Overwhelmed by laughter
Starry skies of stains
Ultimately sorry
Uneducated random strokes of pain
It's a chain going backwards through the veins
Must sew up this wound [bad word] away
I can feel their strength
Through crooked-lightning desert [bad word] and run [bad word] the pathways
branching off through time
Two lone-wolves shared
the utmost silence of the time [bad word]  run the pathways as you share
the uttermost of silence)
Trieste Italiana - Trieste Italiana