Shadows of walls, walls of morning
Where they come from, where they've gone

From a corner where the wave shows itself naked
And at night she pointed the knife at the throat

And on the donkey's back God remained
God is in the sky and he has made himself a nest

We came out of the sea to dry the bones of the Doria
And the fountain of the combs in the stone house

And in the stone house who knows what there will be
In the house of the Doria that the knot has not tied

People of Logan, faces of mandolin
Those who prefer the moonlight

Daughters of a good family, hear the good
That you can love them without the condom

And to these bellies what things you will give
Things to drink, things to eat

Fried pigeon, Purtufin's white
Brains of lamb in the best wine

Lasagna to be spun with four clumps
Sweet and sour rabbit liver

And in the boat of wine we sail in the shadows
Emigrants of laughter with the keys in their eyes

Until the morning grows from the little red hedge
Brother of scarecrows and figs

Bacon of the rope soaked in water and salt
That binds us and takes us into a sea crevice

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