irgendwo in Italien eher am Anfang


Free space surrounds the four amps

just one world from time to time

in crossing and touching

touching the sound of four amps


Untouched the targets

never moving, paralysed

still they're here, analysed


Freely moving eyes they miss the world

sweeping over untouched goals

and the world is gone, chats and children cries go on



Guided in Italian, running words are

shot and stranger's names are god

Ev'rything surround by the murmons

stones, traffic, stone and bones


Untouched the moon

slowly moving, above the dome

till he's losing, anything that's

somehow close to form