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The blood is love. The pains, the sorrows.
The hatred and all the human emotions.
The happiness, that we are dividing for two
The old sadness and grief, that I'm hiding from you
Feeling the grandness of world on your shoulders,
And knowing you never will be a stakeholder.
And all of this feelings flow in the blood
The heart pumps it up like-a great drum
Would you like to drain your heart made of autumn?
Would you renounce all the gold it was made of?
To sanctify means to reject yourself
The cleanliness is a fatality to all humanness
But if you want, you can whiten your heart
The heart like this would never know spike
You will be holy, sacred and saint
And never know struggles of human defect
You'll forget what is love, or sorrows, or hate
But instead You'll be clean, like your primary meant
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