Lost dreams left to the way
Snow served to the loneliness
In sun cup shine the tears
The dawn in the trays of smiles
Scarlet midnight wrapped wine
Haunted by love and ice
Sheding the cold in dying promises
Soul of snow from the ancient abbeys
Entrails receive me
White flesh, oh altar
Sleeping in your temple
Where the pain is so far...
Little fairy kiss my tears
Wine pray to the night
Burial of my feelings
In the silent exile
Challenging your shadows where the death call in ecstasy
And rest where the promises sing in fall your face in the wind
Your face extends over where the nymphs and magicians sleeps
Loving the deep enchantments and your pain inside me
In desires, of set thorn in time, and time and rain, Oh pain!
Give me back feelings, they are buried alive into your veins
The song of the winds
In the forest smell
Silence burning in the fairy spell
Bewitched, deep
Rise up my wings
On the desert of my dead dreams
"Quadros nas sombras
H¡ uma luz ancestral
Onde a memãria sonha o abra§o dos tempos
O presente, seu nome
Talvez silªncio
Onde as horas erguem as suas asas
Aprisionadas ao fio das palavras"
Snow served to the loneliness
In sun cup shine the tears
The dawn in the trays of smiles
Scarlet midnight wrapped wine
Haunted by love and ice
Sheding the cold in dying promises
Soul of snow from the ancient abbeys
Entrails receive me
White flesh, oh altar
Sleeping in your temple
Where the pain is so far...
Little fairy kiss my tears
Wine pray to the night
Burial of my feelings
In the silent exile
Challenging your shadows where the death call in ecstasy
And rest where the promises sing in fall your face in the wind
Your face extends over where the nymphs and magicians sleeps
Loving the deep enchantments and your pain inside me
In desires, of set thorn in time, and time and rain, Oh pain!
Give me back feelings, they are buried alive into your veins
The song of the winds
In the forest smell
Silence burning in the fairy spell
Bewitched, deep
Rise up my wings
On the desert of my dead dreams
"Quadros nas sombras
H¡ uma luz ancestral
Onde a memãria sonha o abra§o dos tempos
O presente, seu nome
Talvez silªncio
Onde as horas erguem as suas asas
Aprisionadas ao fio das palavras"