There´s a sea which is built
from the ashes of sea-beds.
There´s a knowing all about
misery o three heads.
There´s a sound like nothing to tell,
like blowing around prisoning hell.
There´s a trying to get through
and not to find the truth.
Sounds from the phone...
Through unspoken crowds of wires
are your lips speaking to my ear.
I hate this feeling always
but it doesn´t wanna disappear.
But if you are just talking about us
there must be a chance for me to see your eyes,
to be with you somehow,
not to play this game of clowns.
I hate the sounds from the phone...
