I remember your voice, coming from the backyard.
Entering in the room through the windowsill.
We were young and curious. Thirsty for living.
We were sure that life was more than what we knew
We were made to burn,
As fireworks in the night.
Till the morning comes.
Pleasantly drowsy.

I remember every one we met in the road.
Most were getting lost just to be found.
Young and old men sharing personal livings.
Some with no past and careless with the future ahead.
We were made to burn,
As fireworks in the night.
Till the morning comes,
In the back of a truck.

We were made to burn,
As fireworks in the night.
Till the morning comes.
Pleasantly drowsy.
I remember your voice, coming from the backyard.
Entering in the room through the windowsill.