This endless racket won't let you sleep
That tries to fill the days with darkness and enemies
A thunderous pack insists on silencing
The questions, the nuances, the murmur of if-onlys
Noise of patriots who wrap themselves in flags
They confuse the homeland with the sordidness of their caverns
Noise of converts who, fallen off the horse
Sow their resentment, haunted by their sins
Cleaning the city of ghosts
I'd hear you talk in your sleep
And blow on the wounds
That we still have hope
Noise of enlightened ones, they shout from their bonfires
That the light of difference brings the end of the world
Noise of inquisitors, they talk to us about freedoms
Cracking with their screams their varnish of tolerance
So much warrior noise never sets foot on the battlefield
They bring from their battlements the peace of cemeteries
Talk to me about your hugs, about our imperfect love
About the light of your utopia, let your voice drown this din
Cleaning the city of ghosts
I'd hear you talk in your sleep
And blow on the wounds
That we still have hope
Cleaning the city of ghosts
I'd hear you talk in your sleep
And blow on the wounds
That we still have hope
Cleaning the city of ghosts
I'd hear you talk in your sleep
And blow on the wounds
Maybe you'd understand that we still have hope
Cleaning the city of ghosts
I'd hear you talk in your sleep