ROCKER'S

Pioneers from the past, a road made of thorns
Basis of an inflexible belief, a great wall is built

Putting your thoughts in a cabinet
The ground is shaken

A scratching sound, to the point of losing your consciousness
The feelings I want to express are put as sounds
Flap your wings in the heights
Up to the highest tops

There’s nothing in the past but the whirlpool of unfolded history
Polish your spear stubbornly thrust

An ear is torn, a belly is scooped out
Groove eaten away

Close your eyes, by the inside of your body
Feel your overwhelming power
Open your eyes, by those very pupils
Our existence

The melody breathing eternally is in this hand now
The voice of piled up lives, now in this place

A scratching sound to the point of losing your consciousness
The feelings I want to express are put as sounds
The sound now so high
To the maximum volume