sexta-feira, 14 de março de 2014

The urge to the Howl

The Howl has returned from its grave
Where there’s no sense of fear love or hate

Its wings no longer beheld in chain
The blend of the thrill passion and sensations
Flows from the mind through the body
In its rain

The incessantly of the night that follows
Helds these ancient songs
For long forgotten, for long averted
Urging to come back to where it belongs

The pace of those ones whom are lost
Misbehave the rules from the ones whom think are certain
And the bird who reborns from its nescience
Can not fly until the moorings are not taken

The origins of the bonds are unknown
Only is known the blemish that it left
Neither the reason of the liberation is clear
Or if its culprits are alive or dead

There's an elan to vow with it and bow
It’s the only clue that this freedom draws so near
And no more words can be said or can be sold
Everything is paid with the blood of its debt