Μάτια δίχως λογική [Matia dihos logiki] [English translation]

Your eyes, an old corridor they are;

drowned tears peel the walls

on which a tenant -soundless, concealed-

instead of slogans, painted with lyrics.

and inside are the steps that lead

to a basement with broken toys;

all which people tire of and forget,

after use they load them onto you.

You tell me not to love your eyes,

and in my own not to stop believing;

but those eyes, wherever I'm lost and found,

I have them behind me, and in me, and in front of me.

You tell me not to love your eyes,

and in my own not to stop believing

but those eyes, wherever I'm lost and found,

I have them behind me, and in me, and in front of me.

Within the iris starts a fire,

which any man homeless or unemployed it warms

and their kindness spreads as an oil stain

to soften a need that's turned to stone

In these eyes there is no reason

However deep in them I look, they love me

They light history's prison on fire

In the fairy-tales and the stars to find me

You tell me not to love your eyes,

and in my own not to stop believing;

but those eyes, wherever I'm lost and found,

I have them behind me, and in me, and in front of me.

You tell me not to love your eyes,

and in my own not to stop believing

but those eyes, wherever I'm lost and found,

I have them behind me, and in me, and in front of me.

Na na na na na na na na na na na na!

Na na na na na na na na na na na na na!

but those eyes, wherever I'm lost and found,

I have them behind me, and in and in front of me.