Vulgarian

He swears he's clean and pure,
with his eyes closed he can see the spirits.
A painted face masked in sobriety,
but he's just another low life.

Don't know which day this morning belongs to,
and don't care which way tomorrow's wind blows.
Your bones are the books of history,
So don't let the winter's cold into your soul.

For our life, we destroyed the forest.
For our life, it's survival of the fittest.
For our dreams, we learned how to love,
and leave our regrets behind us.