A shadow sitting in the wood looks with indifference
At his notched revolver silently laying on his hand
He ponders about the flowers of his youth and suddenly his head tilts
Because a roses reminds him of the gentle curve of a hip
Days and night to the steel step, deathly fires as a lighting
In the silenced havoc mixed a few graces and his courage
The air fills with a terrible alcohol, filtered of half-closed stars
Shells caress the soil, nocturnal fragrance in which you lay
A shadow sitting in the wood looks with indifference
At his notched revolver silently laying on his hand
He ponders about the flowers of his youth and suddenly his head tilts
Because a rose reminds him of the gentle curve of a hip
English:
Notches (Of a Knife)
A shadow sitting in the wood looks with indifference At his notched revolver silently laying on his hand He ponders about the flowers of his youth and suddenly his head tilts Because a roses reminds him of the gentle curve of a hip
Days and night to the steel step, deathly fires as a lighting In the silenced havoc mixed a few graces and his courage The air fills with a terrible alcohol, filtered of half-closed stars Shells caress the soil, nocturnal fragrance in which you lay
A shadow sitting in the wood looks with indifference At his notched revolver silently laying on his hand He ponders about the flowers of his youth and suddenly his head tilts Because a rose reminds him of the gentle curve of a hip