Is there any beauty that save us?
Is there any beauty that hold us?
Is there a rose shining in the sunlight
ready to share withouth stab us with her thorns?
Oh but there is the fear of man,
when one gets a rose and take her home,
and in the way feels the pain of her thorns,
he throws away the rose and want to move alone.
Oh but there´s the coward fear of man!
All the roses got is thorns,
all the mens got is fears,
and the beauty is to share,
knowing how to care
putting the fears in a bag
and moving both together with your legs!