Tristana

Sad she's prepared for all

Nothing, or all

In the round of madmen, she cries gently

Love killed the words that can touch her

Touch her

Against your mouth she wants to be laid out

Sad she's pulling a face

Front of her mirror

With heart blow embraces, shadow passing

Nothing will ever efface the traces, coward

Of blood flowing, of bodies breaking

So sad fate Tristana

You know, believe

Three little rounds she leaves

Life is that way

The most nice days are ending in pain

Hate

Why do we have to pay with our veins