I Have To Find A Dry Towel

I have to find a dry towel,
To my face strewn with mud,
The filigree caress will be the last of my voice..
Beauty that grows compassion in sadness;
Make me talk to the moonlight...

Hurry up my cleansed chest,
Because the lucky gypsies are yet,
Your scallop that causes love,
They have not witnessed him priming the roses...

How you divided the water in unknown Africa,
Arms dealers can't count you at all,
Isn't it that wars end,
It's your eyes...