If history is written by winners,
those that last or those that deceive...
How many truths are unknown?
How many voices are extinguished?
Voices that ask to be listened,
truths that cannot be refuted.
Truths that would change the present,
demolishing the established conscience.

But could you accept it?
If you discover that your conscience is a desert
and your life an assimilated mirage,
turning real what you see.
God and Satan were created
under the same opressor sign.
The cross imposed you right and wrong,
to separate you from who you are.

Like a fire storm that arrives at night,
burning without warning the engendered lie.
Thus it will be the revelation on the bleeding sky.
Like a fire storm that arrives at night.

All end speak of a new beginning.
The end of the conscience, the beginning of intuition.

Without fear to die, but to live this way.
I rise my arm with pride in tribute to the force of the universe.

Like a fire storm that arrives at night,
burning without warning the engendered lie.
Thus it will be the revelation on the bleeding sky.
Like a fire storm that arrives at night.