Friday night, you took an exceptional life - the love of my life, the mother of my son - but you will not have my hatred. I don't know who you are and I don't want to know, you are dead souls. If this God, for whom you kill blindly, made us in his image, every bullet in the body of my wife would have been one more wound in his heart.
My foot awoke and breathe its own life My hands groove under the ryhtm of the night
A conflict between heart and mind A love that is destined to die A memory of my own demise Am I yours? Are you mine?
You wake up in the morning then sleep when its evening have you wonder what lie's what's there in between
Remember who you are and live passionately Stop living your life on the curse of conformity