Cesta [English translation]

This way,

this direction, I should have been gone

long ago.

When it snows, the way is rougher, but the snow melts again,

a bit of tenderness, they first promise, and then give to you.

More strength,

to fight,

when out of luck, it is better to give,

than to take.

And even when it is hard to follow,

and you have to crawl on your knees,

make her stop giving these questions:

[Ref]

Am I approaching my destination?

How much faith is left?

Where are leading,

the guardrails, that deceit me in the dark? Am I going backwards,

just wasting the words, that I scream?

That they won't open me door at my home again.

Or should I follow the crowd,

laugh, when somebody snaps fingers?

Have my own walkway of fame, and cheering crowds in front of me

and be a part of the herd, with bent back?

But I want to sing,

and play,

kiss ankles

and just stand around.

On the wings of a nightingale,

and just out of the habit

to stop asking:

[2x Ref]

Am I approaching my destination?

How much faith is left?

Where are leading,

the guardrails, that deceit me in the dark? Am I going backwards,

just wasting the words, that I scream?

That they won't open me door at my home again.