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There's a man on the graveyard

walkin' in the cold rain

gropin' on the narrow path

dreamin' about the great saints

Straing at with the eyes

which can see nothin'

but maybe he's lucky

because he can't see even lies

There's our friend in the park

walkin' in the warm wind

face against the sun

the brightness he can only imagine

Enjoyin' the voices of birds

and hearing whispers of trees,

which can tell him more than to us

on his way to eternity

But still he's tryin' to

see the light,

though he can't because he's blind

He's tryin' to feel the life

before he'll die

There's our friend in his room

Waiting for the new daybreak

that would come and bring back his

sight again

But only deep emptiness

and darkness in his eyes,

he's livin' among us until comes

the great silence