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in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla
calma come che seconda estate
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
non giri la vostra testa
per veritŕ, per amore
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
disprezzo i miei amici piů di voi
della l'oscuritŕ e pace nel mia base finale
dio
fiori dei bambini
non prego per pace

 



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