| It's scorching ice, it's icy fire,
|
| It is a wound that hurts and is not felt,
|
| It is a good dream, a bad present,
|
| it is a very tired short break.
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| It is an oversight that gives us care,
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| a coward with a brave name,
|
| a solitary walk among the people,
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| a love only and be loved.
|
| Hey, hey, hey.
|
| It's scorching ice, it's icy fire,
|
| It is a wound that hurts and is not felt,
|
| It is a good dream, a bad present,
|
| it is a very tired short break.
|
| It is an oversight that gives us care,
|
| a coward with a brave name,
|
| a solitary walk among the people,
|
| a love only and be loved.
|
| It is an imprisoned freedom,
|
| that lasts until the last paroxysm;
|
| disease that grows if it is cured.
|
| This is the Love child, this is his abyss of him.
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| See what friendship he will have with nothing,
|
| who in everything is contrary to himself.
|
| Hey, hey, hey.
|
| This is the Love child, this is his abyss of him.
|
| See what friendship he will have with nothing,
|
| who in everything is contrary to himself.
|
| Hey, hey, hey. |