We are the life written on the walls,
Confused and insecure,
Photographs and images of an infinite film.
We are guilty of being innocent,
Stubborn and reckless,
The gusts of hail and the banners of happiness,
Soldiers of love which has shot them in the war.
We are the clouds,
Phrases in letters,
The salt in tears,
The kisses in the cinema,
An exact opposite to the heroes
We are.
We are messages in bottles
Which maybe God collects,
The story to rewrite in the books of reality.
We come to far stars,
Different with the skin,
We are all shipwrecked on the roads of thousand cities,
Soldiers of love which has shot them in the war.
We are the clouds,
The exams to pass again,
The fields of strawberry,
The summer which will return,
An exact opposite to the heroes,
We are the border
Of a dream made together
Of another spring
Which will melt all the hate and snow
In an immense sea of the soul.
We are the clouds,
Phrases in letters,
The fields of strawberry,
The life which will not end,
An exact opposite to the heroes
We are...
We are...