On the clock who's dieing slowly, on the window sun its gone
On a valley where the ghosts, all of them the scream begun
On a sky wich never melted like today in purple rain
On a field with many flowers, on those flowers full of pain
On the mountains, on the hills, on the rivers, on the eyes,
On the woman who betrade me in her heart of ice
On the childs, on the grandparents, on my mother, on my dad
Everything and everybody wait his heaven and his death.

On the blue and on the yellow, on the black and white and grey
On the stars, wich are eternal as we all belive and say
On the birds and on the clowds, on the Gods and on the hell
On this univers perhaps, on infinity aswell
On the music on the shadows, on those hands who give a hug
On the bitter, on the sweet, on a mouse, or on a bug
On the water that we drink, on the blood again, on bread
Everything and everybody wait his heaven and his death