Al-al-alas
The day
The wind blew him away

Like a bee-sting, honey-sweet
Hyacinth
The choir sings at his feet

Chorus of cicadas
Heart of granadas, bleed
at his feet
at his feet
guilty skin creeps

Al-al-alas
The day
The wind blew him away

We harmonise,
Little white lies,
Grow into grey...