Men with both roots and wings

they tie us down and ask us to leave

they are teachings unheard, they are bodies on smoke



Men with both roots and wings

at a singular voice we moan

our teachings mislead, our teachings like smoke



we sleep between the storm that was

and the storm which has to come



We've learnt to learn everywhere

and the very own nature has taught us to wait

difference does sound like sin ,equality reliefs

and that fame ryhmes with hate yet everything is fair

on the intervals of your death



misguided demons or forthcoming heroes

each one with an important name

nothing else than an important name.



Men with both roots and wings

at a certain time we are one

our litlle tricks, our innocence stubborn



Men with just little wings, men with just little minds

Men with just little eyes, men with just little deeds



sleeping between the storm that was

and the wind which fails to come [(and finally)]

blow us away.