Si hasta al-Ahmar era un pájaro de presa, quizá es que los tres fuisteis mi señal.
Porque 'Aran', ese lugar de donde venía el hombre sabio, es una villa que está al pie del monte Alborz, en Irán.
I got two strong arms, blessings of Babylon. With time to carry on and try. For sins and false alarms, so to America, the brave, wise man say...
Near a tree by a river there's a hole on the ground where an old man of Aran goes around and around. And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night.
For a strange kind of fashion there's a wrong and a right.
He'll never, never fight over you.
I got plans for us, nights in the scullery and days, instead of me. I only know what to discuss of for anything but the light.
Wise men fighting over you.
It's not me you see. Pieces of valentine with just a song of mine. To keep from burning history... seasons of gasoline and gold.
Wise men fold.
Near a tree by a river there's a hole on the ground where an old man of Aran goes around and around. And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night.
For a strange kind of fashion there's a wrong and a right.
He'll never, never fight over you.
I got time to kill, sly looks on corridors without a plan of yours.
A black bird sings on bluebird hill, thanks to the calling of the wild wise man's child.
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