Qu Ser, Qu Ser?

I believe in many things I haven't seen, and you do too, I know that
The existence of something palpable, no matter how ethereal, cannot be denied
Sea
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 that some of you, perhaps, can give

It's a technicolor theme to make something useful out of love. For everyone
We, 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 shouts 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
It is in the pilgrimage of the mutilated
It is in the fantasy of the unhappy
It is in the daily life of the prostitutes
In all the bandits and helpless
In every sense, to be what to be
That has no decency and never will
That has no censorship and never will have
And it lacks sense

Oh, what a being, what a being
That no warning can avoid
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 was never there
The man will be blessed again
Extinguishing Hell's Final Flame
Because