Beds of events,
battles, cravings, and birth pains.
Beds that know everything by now...
about abused lives,
tragic nights.
Beds that you can never explain.
If you wanna know who you are,
if you want to seduce reality,
put those thoughts to bed.
The dawn will heal
your errors,
ended loves.
{CHORUS}:
That's where the soul is unleashed.
It's palid, anonymous.
{CHORUS}:
By reshuffling solitudes,
a bed can confuse us.
Rags or very rare laces.
Everyone lies as they deserve,
the way they imagine theirselves,
the way they'll live.
{CHORUS}:
The same bed, you know,
same obstinate company.
If an angel woke you up,
{CHORUS}:
(Woke you up...)
and they at least remembered
that you still can...
that you're not alone.
{CHORUS}:
Forgotten beds,
so distracted beds,
thrown into the deep blue sky,
where cry began,
and the heart magically
bumped into a poetry.
{CHORUS}:
That's where having a soul makes sense
because, those who are able to, forget.
{CHORUS}:
You find a bed to certain men
and you could lose them.
{CHORUS}:
Love replicates here,
so that every night won't be the last,
and you the victim, again.
{CHORUS}:
That's where the soul is unleashed.
One bed for whoever judges you.