I have seen clothed skulls, 

many of them find their achievements on roads. 

But they bring flowers for winters, they hug burned children, they have music on their own…and a radio which plays by their veins.  

They are those magnificent ones who once travelled the world with their senses…

Free from negotiations…they never actually knew where the cages were, 

you can smell dazzling liberations from their words. 

But i don’t know when these illusive little people are gonna accept these few burning ones, 

Friends, without them nights will be whiskey without rains.