Oh Que Será?

I believe in many things I haven't seen, and you do too, I know
The existence of something palpable cannot be denied, no matter how ethereal it may be
There is no need to show proof of decency, of that which is so true
The only gesture is, to believe, or not
Sometimes, I even think I'm crying
This is an incomplete topic because it lacks an answer
Answer, which some of you, perhaps, can give

It's a technicolor theme to make something useful out of love
For all of us, amen

Oh, what will it be? What will it be?
Who walks sighing through the bedrooms
That is heard whispering in verses of trova
He's asking us crazy questions
What is in the heads, is in the mouths
That is climbing through many holes
They are talking loudly in the cellar
And he cries out in the market, what is that thing?

It is nature, it will be, it will be
That has no certainty and never gives you
That has no concept, and never will
That has no size

Oh, what will it be? What will it be?
Who lives in the ideas of those lovers
What the most delirious poets sing
What drunken prophets swear by
He is in the pilgrimage of the mutilated
It is in the fantasy of the unhappy
It is in the daily life of prostitutes
In all the bandits and helpless
In all its senses, it will be what it will be
That has no decency and never will
That has no censorship and never will have
And it lacks sense

Oh, what will it be, what will it be
That no warning can prevent
That prisoners cannot challenge either
That all paths will have to cross
Where all the signs are going to consecrate
And all the little kids to investigate
And all destinations will find
And the same eternal father who never went there
The man will be blessed again
Extinguishing Hell's Final Flame
Because there is no point in rolling again
Due to lack of judgment

(Ohhh, what could it be?)
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
The prophet swears, the poet sings, and they are shouting in the model
Oh, what could it be?
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
That wakes me up at night, and makes me shake, makes me cry
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
They are ghosts, they are the ghosts, I hear the door knock three times
Oh, what could it be?
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
They go sighing through the bedrooms and whispering verses of trova
Go listen!

(Ohhh, what could it be?)
It has no size, and it is nature, it is in the mouths and in the heads
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
All the little kids will investigate it and no warning will be able to prevent it
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
Every bell will ring, and he who is asleep will wake up
(Ohhh, what could it be?)
They are ghosts, they are the ghosts, I hear the door knock three times
Oh, what could it be?!