Do you want to be the animal to take me apart, break my patience, corrupt my sacred art?
Do you promise to be with me if i beg and i crawl in my darkest mood, through the private words?
Will you stay, even when the drugs have gone, for it won't be long before i tumble,
Turn into the unctuous crown that, just yours, won't come down.

In fire and whispers, i would die for a million years.
I promise to be your rock star, but then, promises don't mean anything anymore.

In the summer of twenty-five was the correcting of excuses, of our need to win
To ourselves, we lied, we could be the new beginning, digging up treasure, taking the time to love and to live and to sing.
And you stayed, even when the drugs were gone, so i sing this song to you on a right earned of neverending poetry, it's just us, you and me.

In fire and whispers, i would die for a million years.
I promise to be your rockstar, but then, rock stars don't mean anything anymore.