Forgotten eyes are the ones which we lose
Forgotten hands are the ones which we choose
To let go of, and it is no less a bruise
On the collective arm‚ keeping us hanging on
Forgotten dance is the one left at birth

Forgotten plants in the fossils of earth
And they´ve all passed and they are no less the dirt
And become the soil‚ keeping us dry and warm

The wound has no direction;
Everybody needs a home and deserves protection

Ride away on any street where no sirens can hear
Just trash and soiled needles‚ clawing for the mirror
And no crying, but it is no less a tear and becomes the cheek
With which we smile
Ride away on any, is it they or is it I?
Is it me who is more hollow as I´m quickly passing by?
And the poison is killing them‚ but then so am I, as I turn away

The wound has no direction;
Everybody needs a home and deserves protection

Forgotten tongue is the language of love