Tethered to an adverse existence
Slaughtered without occasion
Our blood dilutes itself with tears
We are spirits
In mutilated lodgings
We remain calm
But our veins roar in turbulence
We are spirits
Struggling to paint our faces
With severed noses
We smell the blood-watered roses
We are spirits
We will find new hosts
Whose death will come
When they have spoken mighty words
« return.