And the light's lambs are darkest than you,
oh, holy sky,
and my lip is bad like the shoe
of the death's athletes,
but I don't blame, I don't cry,
ah, holy sky,
I look to your beautiful holes,
to the icons who wake nostalgias.

I run, too many sands are in churches,
oh, the holy sky,
I collect sins, exposing them in my soul,
you don't help me to hope
I become an little normal angel,
carrying the stone of the wings,
ah, holy sky,
I'm too black to show you
the smoke buried by the mirror eyes.

And the days grow up on the time strings,
oh, holy sky,
I have no enough life to change myself,
I'll come to you in a foggy shirt
stained by multiple dreams,
ah, holy sky,
you'll forget me and you'll clean me
with the pure water of the apple prayers,
with the escapes of the snakes from the heaven's cage?

And the light's lambs are darkest than you,
oh, holy sky,
I want to cut them
and your warm wool becomes soul!