Four doors I have in my house,
open to all winds:
the one that is open for you, the other for the good people,
THE THIRD PER LA MORT, that will close my time
Last keep it to me, that is a piece of sky.
A hope between the fingers, that makes us work hard. In that place so close, a dream so present. A scenario that is not seen in the first eye. People go up and down. S'it.lusona, stick to the pass or is desperate for the future. There, where broken dreams and persistent hopes hide, Wait for the life that I have, experienced. A cycle that catches us, resisting the onset of the years, While the dust is accumulating in every corner. Where the enemies of each, they will be the people of his house.
At time, cannot survive.
