Lyric

The morning dawns, the machines are already grinding

The city squares are full of empty promises

We look for each other in the middle of the smoke

When the price of the soul shines in silver

Here we build walls of words

We mend wounds with bitter bowls

Here we look for faces without a mark

And voices forgotten

The stairs lead up, the foundation is missing

Tears flow on cold floors

Every look is judged by money

And every breath is packed into dark archives

Here we build walls of words

We mend wounds with bitter bowls

Here we look for faces without a mark

And voices forgotten

Light does not light up from cold contact

Connection does not grow on the ruins of storms

But if the pieces are joined

In them the old heart still beats

Here we build walls with words

Heal wounds with bitter cups!

Here we search for faces without a label

And voices forgotten!