You are the creator of empires You only know how to dominate You confuse possession with selfishness You hide under a cross If I had known… If I had known I would never have gone near you You always ask for more And give nothing in return Lamb of heroic traditions With a flower in your hand And a legendary emblem You think you are a conqueror Walking on the dust In love with pain Your home is an open wound That you know very well That you know very well Walking on the tightrope At the edge of the sky Beside you there are no footsteps Nor the echo of a voice Nor the echo of a Voice You gaze at your reflection in the water Not even your shadow wants to keep you company A storm covers you at night Like an impenetrable shield My words fall into the void Like a shooting star And yet I can't stop thinking If you had been born somewhere else… somewhere else My words set me free They condemn you to a single place You are both victim and executioner Who doesn't recognize it? Your place You only see your wounds While you crush others Your ideas remain etched in unbreakable stone. Lamb of heroic traditions With a flower in your hand And a legendary emblem You think you're a conqueror Walking on dust In love with pain Your home is an open wound That you know all too well That you know all too well Walking on a tightrope At the edge of heaven Beside you there are no footsteps Nor the echo of a voice Nor the echo of a voice Will you ever wake up? Perhaps there's nothing left to save Will you ever be able to see the sky again from the same place? When you understand that heaven's time is your time Mortal seconds pass It's time to wake up
