In the depths of the forest there is A tree with a cymbal it Hanged from one of its Most sturdy branches In the past the tree was Set on fire By those who didnt understand Its true meaning We're travelling from one place to another Searching a midpoint, But its the path where we will really Find what we are looking for Without rest Have your breakfast Of pride a good taste? And your incompetence? We have allowed the warm Winter'scene to burn into ashes You became lost as You went round that corner Assuming of your attitude, Of your great honor And forgetting about the Frozen season, in no rush We're travelling from one place to another Searching a midpoint, But its the path where we will really Find what we are looking for Without rest Have your breakfast Of pride a good taste? And incompleately incompetence?