Америка

The cloud is the voice of dreams
The morning was erasing the earthly shackles
And a bird of free victory
Set sail to sail to the islands…
What will happen if I become a wave,
What wave will burn your worlds?
It will fall....Those ships will fall,
That they are moored and stranded…
America… You're almost dead.. Splendor is sinking…
Do you know the power that was silent?
Was it kind and did not portend?
And this is me... my new old land....
It will fall....Those ships will fall,
That they are moored and stranded…
America… You're almost dead.. Splendor is sinking…