Speak, little child
How many questions are haunting you?
How many mortals souls, still not gave up
To you?

Your bittersweet kisses
Your deep seductor eyes
Your soft vicious voice
You're always there delighted

A perfect existence
All the pleasures for you
To fullfil, the hole innerself

Trying to find some trace
Of autenticity

(refrão)
You never asked yourself
How shoud be outside this shell
Now you're much more blind
But all is much clear when we're in dark

Blind misery
Searching for something useful
Riding through the dark path of your doubts
In the highest point of your mindwar
You become a slave of your sand mask