Para os madrugadores. Saudades das noites de boémia, dos copos, animação, tagarelar, bailar.
Strip it down to the ritual ground
Strip it down to the scene
Where it all began
Strip it down to the skin
Further down to the chilling bone
Where you freeze the most
Where you feel the most
Strip it down to the heart
Strip it down to that bleeding stone
Strip it down to the beat
Just a metal stick
Mind is deconstructing
Mind is self-destructing
Mind is going down the drain
Body coldly burning
Pulse slowly returning
Out of ash to grow again
Strip it down to the core
Further down to the naked truth
Where you freeze the most
Where you hurt the most
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