Bombardments of adrenaline, a way from the desperation up to the lust, everything looks god, it seems to be made for us, endless spirals full of feline invisible shadows, a good escuse to hide in the danger, a march of souls in a sorrow strolling around without end. A secret hidden between the tears of the rum, revealing in a cold and humid bridge. In a watchtower, the distance between nothing and everything, dilated pupils, the creep of the nerves does that of every top a chill acid goes out, yes, everything are made for you and me. So close your eyes and walk away, i don't know why i'm with you now, we don't know nothing.
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