Einai ta matia sou enas diadromos palios dakria pnigmena ksefloudizoune tous toihous pou enas enikos athorivos palios anti sinthimata zografize me stihous
kai mesa iparhoun ta skalia pou odigoun se ena ipogio me paihnidia halasmena osa oi anthropi variountai kai ksehnoun meta ti hrisi ta fortonoune se sena
mou les ta matia sou na min ta agapo kai na min papso na pistevo sta dika mou ma auta ta matia opou hatho ki opou vretho ta eho piso mou kai mesa kai brosta mou
mesa stin idia tin irida anavei mia fotia pou kathe astego kai anergo zesteni kai i kalosini tous aploni san ladia na malakosi mia anagki petromeni
se auta ta matia den iparhi logiki oso vathia ki an ta kitazo m' agapune tis istorias pirpoloun ti filaki sta paramithia kai sta asteria na me vroune
Eyes without sense
Your eyes are an old corridor drowning tears they pare the walls that an inhabitant, quiet, deaf instead of graffiti he painted them with lyrics
Inside there are stairs that lead to a basement with broken toys the ones that people are sick of and forget after they use it they pass them on to you
You're telling me, your eyes to stop loving and to never give up believing in mine but these eyes, wherever I get lost and found I have them behind me inside and before me
Inside the iris, a fire burns that every homeless and unemployed, it warms up and their benevolence spreads, like an oil-stain to relieve a need that is solid
Within these eyes there is no sense As deep as I look into them they love me they set fire to history's prison to the fairytales, and the stars to find me