The panic of God's fears.
Chosen out of criteria
Destruction rains as tears
...in every dream.
A gun becomes a hope
When words turn into knives.
I would change my last vote
To avoid witnessing my life
...to avoid this time.
People who say not to believe
suddenly start all to cry.
Wishing all to find relief
on four riders that make me sick
...yet I try.
A word for Apocalypse day,
it plays in each corner of my brain.
My mind is vanishing away,
torturing me without pain
...again.
A song for Apocalypse night,
it sounds like the end of all times.
As my heart regrets being mine,
I remember every second of life
...then I die.
Fran Zama
Y quizá llegará el día...
