Months and Storms In the hands of the cold winds abandoned from my shouting and from the tiredness of my I am a calm and proud cliff Always always my companion and hail The wounded sound of my birth and my death I am a whip I am a whip
Look at the beautiful tomorrow Make me a fever If your storm scream If I am a shadow of the shadow in front of you If I expect a lifetime If I have no way of staying, I am the last captive of this land I cant
Still an eye on a breeze to get his hand in my hand Still love the baron and my sea I dont scare if I love you I am not a descent of the generation I dont have a breath of Veyron My most wounded my heart but I dont have the nights night I am the last captive of this land I dont even have a breath The most wounded my heart but I dont have to go to night.
