The fire is lit it shall stay:
Arriving now peace is clear.
It seems as though we will never turn grey,
Complacent we grow longing for frontier.
The winds have answered and over the mountain range
A storm appears longing for change.
But now in the storm our fire suffers,
We take place in different shelters.
It seems inevitable but also impossible.
No one ever seems responsible,
The storm has passed the view is morbid:
We thought it'd last forever the fire we started.