Victims, they died in the battle for the money
our most sweet feelings
are now inside world's waves.
Too bads, that tighten the threads around the neck.
Our need gave birth to slogans
from life's blows.
Smell from spring day
we are one with the air.
Lies, distress lives within the looks
behind barbed wires
they turn dreams into nods.
Meals, leftover people in dishes
all races turn into goods
food of the informers
Smell from spring day
we are one with the air.
How many take advantage of those who dream
in the end there's always a taste of guilt
because souls are not a game
and we are the same in a sinking world
full of fake happiness
Smell from spring day
we are one with the air.