Living dust, I search in vain for my Milky Way
In my torment, I found only a mausoleum
And I ramble
I'm afraid of the void
I turn pages, but
Empty pages

Wandering dust, I did not know how to guide myself
Each hour asks for whom? For what, to stand up?
And I ramble
I'm afraid of the void
Why these tears, say
What's the point of living?

But my God, what do I look like, I'm good for nothing
And who can say in this hell what is expected of us, I admit
No longer knowing what I'm good for, probably nothing at all
Now I can keep quiet if everything becomes disgust

Burning dust, the fever got the better of me
I laugh without laughing, I live, I do anything
And I ramble
I'm afraid of the void
I turn pages, but
Empty pages

But my God, what do I look like, I'm good for nothing
And who can say in this hell what is expected of us, I admit
No longer knowing what I'm good for, probably nothing at all
Now I can keep quiet if everything becomes disgust

But my God, what do I look like, I'm good for nothing
And who can say in this hell what is expected of us, I admit
No longer knowing what I'm good for, probably nothing at all
Now I can keep quiet if everything becomes disgust

But my God, what do I look like, I'm good for nothing
And who can say in this hell what is expected of us, I admit
No longer knowing what I'm good for, probably nothing at all
Now I can keep quiet if everything becomes disgust

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