Vida

The wind blows silent, across our fences, uncaring who it caresses, starts in darkened cellars, casts it own spell, scent of the mad jealous, does it salute us, a candle to a friend, what brings us the fire, across our barren lands, nothing is more relative, to know where we stand, will the world recognise, our fight to the end, face down men's surprises, we carry magic letters, pretend fear has no smell, tell everyone remind us, we're better than them.