Old world, so shining, 
your scent is like (a) rusty dream in my mind. 
All your sweet abundance 
is now a repulsive lie to my life. 
I want to rest, to feel the taste of peace, 
I want to see beyond appearances. 
The blade of my brain is ready to believe: 
there's the need of something else� 
I'LL TRY TO BREAK THE SILLY THINGS, 
(THE) MORBID BRAIN OF A SAINT WITHOUT A SOUL TO KNOW, 
I'LL TRY TO TASTE (THE) EARTHLY GOODS 
AND THE PAIN OF A FRIEND, WITH MY ANIMAL SENSE. 
It's my new religion, 
or if you want our new world, new time. 
So (the) revolution can start, 
simply, in the respect of human things