עטלפים עפים נמוך [Atalefim Afim Namuch] [English translation]

Bats fly low when your city falls asleep

and no one is waiting in the dark rooms.

You sink with a smile into the panting abyss

and you don't even care

that everything is upside down.

What looks like a diamond in the rough in the middle of the night

turns out to be nothing more than a waitress awaiting.

She's waiting for Mercury to come back home

from his long withdrawal

from the bottom of distress.

Oh, don't worry,

every flower has its bed.

A shower of stars is all you asked for,

Thick and bright colors and illusions of victory,

some retained energy that would burst out of darkness

and spread like breathing into the crazy morning.

Oh, don't worry,

every flower has its bed.

With the break of dawn dragged garbage cans are heard

The pavements' pores expand and sweat,

slowly they ooze out the night,

they sing along with you.

Bats fly low, they fly low towards the sunrise.

Oh, don't worry,

every flower has its bed.