| It came to our coast the wind of neddles and sand | |
| The end of our street has lost its head in my head | |
| Tossed in that black nor in the feeling and boom | |
| The tower gave in to its poor stealing too soon | |
| Your luck , your luck | |
| Your cold luck has turned | |
| Walk out, walk out | |
| Till bright side lost its blue | |
| Your luck , your luck | |
| Your cold luck has turned | |
| Walk out, walk out | |
| Till bright side lost its blue | |
| The pedestals to which we hold | |
| All might fall down built upon on | |
| The pedestals to which we hold | |
| All might fall down built upon on | |
| The pedestals to which we hold | |
| All might fall |
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