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That inconsolable pack of dogs without a guide
Witches with simple souls, pathetic travelers
Poor fools, poor devils, lunatic diamonds
Promised flesh, weak, intangible
They are my lovers

Good news is coming from the hidden ones
From the recovering for the dreamers
My breath no longer waits
(No beast in my fangs)
But I devour, wounded
The space and the shine
Of my lovers

Some relapse
(A bit of sudden hiccup)
For the fugitives branded by fire
And a spell or two
(It's all pretty simple)
If nothing moves me
Not even the gunfire
Of my lovers