Lyrics:

The night's filters do not respond
Sweat is dropping on the pillow
And my mind is in a larger agitation
Which is pressing the temples
The echoes of wind, the echoes of wind
My hand are searching your fingers
The death of sleep and the artificial caress
I wait for the morning time
Around the the night in silence
The watcher dreams the joy
That man was in the garden
The devils are waiting
The echoes of wind, the echoes of wind
My hands are searching your fingers
Behind that door there's somebody calling
Edges have no end