We don't need God
We don't need God send us plagues
We don't need God
We're alone and that's okay
We don't need God
We don't believe anyway

We will be providing pain
Where nature bears only goods
Rock, greed and shame
Will bring us the best damn floods

How can it be?
Why should we die?

In our backyards
Every summer we'll create
Every year 'round
Our own selfpunishment
It's such a waste
Seems like we will never learn


How can it be?
Why should we die?




And should this death toll
Even though appear too small
If by any means it still look natural
Let's have some neglected matters
Turned to accidental fires
Where we can send people to die
Without sin or conviction
To a gas chamber i
n disguise

“It’s a ghost town”
People like to say it loud
Well, for a moment before dawn
I really see no one around

“It’s a ghost town”
Oh but that I've already known
For many times before the dawn
I was the only ghost around

Yet early in the evening
I parked my car around the corner
From the house where I once lived in
But was not sure should I come over

Took a deep, though silent breath
When once I'd have lit a cigarette
Made my way across the street
Trying to make some sense of it

Nasty thoughts about the future
Fight this all time homesick urge
And like a sunstroke robot figure
I kept moving back and forth, and farther

Like those things you can't explain
But that help the world make sense
I've come to find myself again
Outside my childhood school fence

Happy sad I felt this time
Happy sad had I felt then
If you came your way up here
Stay with me until the end

Somewhere around here long ago
I left a child behind in fear
To move onwards, I let him go
I dropped his hand but I got lost too

Sometimes I think I still can hear
His hushed cry inside my ears
Now, as I feel he wandering near
My eyes finally shed his tears

Tempo corrigido, paixões acomodadas
O outono passado nunca teve fim
Os rangidos e as cores da sirene se fundem
A cena do crime perfeito foi inventada

Antes nos conhecíamos, agora apenas combinamos
Há séculos não eclode um ovo

A música não preenche mais pautas
A música não enche mais capas
Ninguém parece dar a mínima
A que merda lhe entra pelos ouvidos

Ruas sombrias, batidas ensurdecedoras e encardidas*
Façanhas obstinadas da vida cotidiana
A chuva não desaba, mas também não cessa
Cada gota é uma faísca que cai

Nada dura o suficiente para mudar
O passado estará fora de alcance em breve