| Unruly type of sun
|
| Willing to spare no one
|
| From the plains up to the peaks
|
| This heat’s stealing faith from the weak
|
| Amidst the burning breeze
|
| From the ground up through the trees
|
| I hear the birds complain
|
| About the lack of the rain
|
| And it’s not the same life
|
| Here the morning’s like a knife
|
| And the river’s been bone dry
|
| Where the day is not fond of light
|
| Unruly til the night
|
| Shades
|
| From the plains up to the peaks
|
| This heat’s stealing faith from the weak
|
| Amidst the burning breeze
|
| From the ground up through the trees
|
| I hear the birds complain
|
| About the lack of the rain
|
| It’s bearing down on me
|
| No clouds in the sky
|
| I hear the pines crack and cry:
|
| «There's no reason to try»
|
| And it’s not the same life
|
| Here the morning’s like a knife
|
| And the river’s been bone dry
|
| Where the day is not fond of light
|
| It’s bearing down on me
|
| No clouds in the sky
|
| I hear the pines crack and cry:
|
| «There's no reason to try» |