Down again at the edge of sensation
I could feel the sharp crawls of utter frustration
Grabbing my soul as she passes by minefields
Telling her sad tales, ah, she feels...

Meet Moshe Dayan in a Russian bunker
Feel the need of the bunker soldiers
They hold their heads in their hands, so they see
More from a deeper point of society...

Blood on the floor, puked by a drunkard
Me and my love down in the bunker-
Meet Moshe Dayan in a Russian bunker
Feel the need of social amendments-
Amendments...

Out again on the churchyard of selfishness
White crosses mark the tombs of desires
A nail in each hand, chatter below my feet
I'm living it down, the suspended animation

The skies get closer, at this juncture
I'd prefer being in the bunker...
Meet Moshe Dayan in a Russian bunker
Feel the hands of bleeding Guernica
I'm living it down, my mental diaspora
Much obliged you, Francis Goya...

There might be a wall, there might be my head
My head against the wall, that's what I dream of
Meet Moshe Dayan in a Latin funnel
Feel the need of mental amendments-
Amendments...
Dying amendments...