Only you, only three,
only you and three chords for you
if I come down, where you are,
into the cellar
into a blue box
into a box.
Only you, only me,
how much costs to consent
to a sip of regrets
just to feel a little more tired
and a little less ready!
Against me, hundred of you.
It seems easy to cry.
I’m selling wind to the people.
Beyond you everything is nothing, you know,
everything is nothing, if you want.