A tired hand repeats a movement
tries so hard to unveil a secret
a sacred secret buried inside those eyes.
The night gives the key to clean the mud.
and i can see behind the golden gates.

A blue fire around my own face,
leding me to a strange kind of game.
What is next?

Everybody is running from their fates,
but i don't care if mine is black or grey.
I don't know what you've done,
but i'm sure you won't be there
but i'm sure you won't regret.
You'll be cleaning out the dust in these old hands.

Everybody is dreaming with their fates,
they don't care if yours is a fairy tale.
I don't know what you've done,
but i'm sure i won't be there
but i'm sure i won't regret.
I'll be digging out the fears with these old hands.

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