A long time silent and cold guitar,
with its raw voice and clumsy sound,
was telling me that happiness isn’t that far,
if the words once lost are found.
Was telling me ‘bout pleasant days,
when heart’s a basket full of fruits;
when loneliness is coloured by rays,
of a sun whose name can’t guess it.
Given up playin’, started the prayin’;
in my hands a guitar with a turned off gain,
in my heart that hope always sayin’:
don’t cry, it can be Christmas again.
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