Full of pride wagons
Gold epaulets,
From the south, blowing young wind.
Tearing to shreds clouds
Do not forget, send from afar,
From the house, my mother, and not last love.
A run through the sky,
You see, someone tracks
This could be me, it could be you
This may await us, this can we sing their own.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Full of joy feasts,
Unearthly bows,
Get up, have a drink, and for all quiet.
Month half the world totters,
Language, leg stumble
Remember, say his brother desired words.
A run through the sky
You see, someone traces
This could be me,
it could be you
It We can wait this can we sing their own.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There's a war on Memory years.
Diamond cut stone
There is a war ...
From the south, the full wagons
Gold epaulets,
Proudly blow young wind.