We collide with hot foreheads into the glass, as planted under heaven. To break it do we want it? The desire to get away from it all at least not in the front row. Modesty? In our dreams, the spade is already tilling the ground, room to avoid betrayal. Freedom? We bind ourselves bindingly, promises that were never made. Behind the curtain of the glass sky, the horizons darkened. As long as you hold your head up as long as you avoid the crowd as long as you sing your song you don’t have clouds over your head And if it ever gets dark, and you didn’t want it so much anymore aware of your pranas, build your temple In all its walls, you will hear your calm breath. The heat that will be inside not only you then it will warm up. Know, “I will.”