In the morning glow of white, our eyes remain closed. It seeks
our thoughts often sounded until noon.
The crowd suddenly snapping advances towards me.
That, my heart which finally broke the silence.
Prisoners of the century, we take quelqu'apparences
And without knowing why, our actions follow the pace.
People around us are mourning their illusions
And reality trickles into sweat on their foreheads.
Hands bound hand and we got caught in the gears.
To console himself a little, we talk and dream trips.
Love in this sad day is gone,
The world feels the horrible fear of dying disappointed.
The brain slowly
can only work in that damn machine to create insane.
the evening they advanced, and in our metal box,
The return is extended, there is a captive of the maze.
When our senses, we finally resumed use
the threshold of the night in our heads, gray clouds.
In this prison world, we number.
And clearly, there is no point thinking about a setback.
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