Let me cry for all these little men
Building their bridges of sand:
Nothing more than children, with children on their hands.
Deep into their silence, stronger than their words,
Runs a cold wild river to the sea of love.
I’m the cleaning Lady of the broken hearts.
I’m the Virgin Mary of the psychopaths.
I’m god’s only witness that they fall apart
When they touch the fire of the ancient stars
When the rain starts falling on their hearts,
All Hitler’s and Bonaparte’s
Hide inside my red dress like motherless pets.
They produce the tears, they invent the bombs,
They spread out the fears
And they come home all alone.
Belle Chase Hotel
Nimarói - Belle Chase Hotel