Pigeons

When the thousand white wing pigeons spread their wings

and raise to the brave rise towards the cloudless sky,

my faith for this lousy life starts to flame again

Pain seems to be so far away

Sane I will be drowned by the pure feelings, beatings

Hurtings seemed to be just history

I believe in life

The old paintings, faintings, the heat of makings makes me feel safe about the ratings

The smell of old knowledge stops all my senses

The wave doesn't call me, I'm a bit too far away

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand

The crickets seem to like no tourists

Those purists of an intellectual way

flying around, running the day, make my day

What would you say if your corners would be full of drunken grey faces

Taste of "grace" (...and red wine)

Everywhere you go with your workful flow

Now go, serve those servants, feed their holiday

(...so this is the productive day!)

We pigeons will be fed by them who lead this way to its colourful fade

Let the blooming flowers sway

and drunken the ones who just lay...around

with no bound to create an important sound of this tasty muddy red ground

Let me fly and see how the crowd comes and goes,

in and out, when we just fly around

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand

I've never seem to care I wasn't there

Madness is spreading in minds

I'm out of these human kinds

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand

At the times of Phoenicia

when Zeus stole his daughter Europa

into the euphoria of Divida Comedia like a lalalatina land...

I'm your user, man, you're me user, girl

Can't you see, that's the only way to understand this purity of your open mind

A judge of any sign, while the pigeons fly so high...

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand

I've never seem to care I wasn't there

When I'm away from you

I know there's nothing to do

I've never seen the warmth you have in your hand