We could have saved them one by one. All the lovers left all alone. We could have killed them one by one. For putting beauty into vain words. Something is missing. When no more candles light the dark. When no more roses could add some colours. When everything around smells like someone, who disappeared in your mirror. We are the saviours of dignity. We are the leftovers of crucified generations. Made out of murders and of abuses. Digging the gap between moulded heads and the passion. We are the prayers needing no churches. We are the sense of all no name rebellions. We are the quitter and the rejected. We are the betrayal and a two thousand year old question.