Panta Rei the coolness of white walls
I keep the true on the roundbout
The lightness and darkness as two puppets
are one of the leads here
And though one would like to laugh
It's no use to stand out from the crowd
As the poor king has announced
Someone who died
Will say nothing, not here
It is lord, whom my soul may touch
Silence, small son
Don't say a word
And don't ever look up to me
I am white and I often cry
I am open and do not go away
Mother, Father, burn the money
Let the fire purge my soul
Hit me, vent you fury,
Spread ashes over your chest
The dead abyss a pack of lies
will be given a try of defects
Faithful happiness - to mask of lot
I'm free, I always wanted to be
I can freely rebound from the door
I forgot about You, your name, your eyes,
The mist clears the next day dawns
It carries a little bit of glory
I'll need it like bread for the further wars of wild orders
In paranoia of troublesome games
Each moral
Each moral concluding the story
It's you - you are him
Fades away when it faces the real life
