the mist of time goes up and down
from your tyrannical eyes and your ironic disguise
blowing in the wind, walking over the sky

shaking the trees, taking their leaves so high
by your own you burn the sand
when there is no hope to stand

and where your sun lies
becomes a kingdom of light
even when the sun is warm

this sun, that never dies
but sleeps sometimes
to let the rain falling down


four candles for five corners
only you, know how it goes

with your tyrannical eyes
and your ironic disguise
and how it brights

from cruel and true smile
making back the mist of time