Sometimes I think
Of the dead, what they said
Sometimes I think
Of the dead, what they left
Sometimes I dream
Of an ancient villa
Where they stay together
And I am there
I can meet them all
We can talk together

That's what I see
There's no pain, or so it seems
They stand and smile
Look so wise, very quiet
And I feel fine
Wonder if I'm dead too
Could I ever know it?
I'm full of doubts
Maybe pain is only
On the living ones' side

Don't mourn for them
They stay in the country
In a silent house
Just cry for us
Awaking every morning
Flirting with suicide