Слова:
Novembre Arte Novecento

Slowly gliding down through the bottle that seems to have no end Sweet is the falling in those bubbles and colours When you leave nothing you care about

We, in this blowing of time We lose our dreams as the trees give their leaves to the ground With no more poetries to cry We're still here without a place

There in those tears where I had to leave you drowning My pearl, you went to face the most cruel of my gifts And now I'm here to face the cold of what

I saw your daydream shattering to countless flakes of falling snow They were bright as stars, and each of them were a magic wish to come true But sometimes