II Maybe the moth is just a fly waiting to come alive

On a street where no one has it easy

On which the land already lost place

It's solance is it's face

Don't try to chase the race

It's already lost in space

You are the grace

On the pale fallen face

Some done it all, to escape a little longer

Some can't wait any longer

Everyone is ready for a wonder

Nobody seems missing

It is flying by its living

The street is giving

And loving by forgiving