LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA
They call holy saturday today
The wind from the east is blowing
And I try to keep myself from thinking
while the sun among the clouds is blinking
It seems that the wind does know
that the winter doesn’t want to go
I cry when I see how much I’m flimsy
I feel I’m only a metaphor so dim
In the afternoon I feel in a pool
I can hardly breath and it’s cold
I really don’t know what I am looking for
and I only know I’m alone
I have stopped to write, and also to pray
Inside I’ve put out, all the flames
For Christianity, it’s the saddest day
when the death is going to win
I’m so insecure during these days
as it was the end of every lane
and I try not to go astray
there is no indications on my way
In the afternoon I feel in pool
I can hardly breath and it’s cold
I really don’t know what I am looking for
and I only know I’m alone
I have stopped to write, and also to pray
Inside I’ve put out, all the flames
For Christianity, it’s the saddest day
when the death seems to going to win
