I saw your trace, on wet soils of empty graves

I wanted you for me, but you belong to all...

A rooster used to wake you up, now slaughtered bleeding in your hand

It seems to be a brilliant feast for your keen appetite

Your answers to my questions, feeble, pitiful evasions

A truth living the day has bitten a nightmare through haze

Which left a trace on empty graves...

I wanted you for me, but you belong to all...