Lyrics:
The Format Swans

are not swans We fit into each other, we are Russian dolls, Where somewhere in the centre sits a beating heart. But come on, come on, We are not swans

not swans nor are we as ugly as we think we are we don't take to compliments, but please don't stop now come on, come on We are not swans We fit into

to kill that plague, Ignorance is still source of denying. The path we are striding on Is made of the attempts of former slaves To believed in existence

[Music & lyrics : Abate, Blachier, Canavaggia, Cozzi, Lavail] Down the red mountain Each day I have to climb, My eyes stare at you The perfect sky,

[Music & lyrics : Abate, Blachier, Canavaggia, Cozzi, Lavail] When the light is in your back And the eve in your eyes Do you feel the breath of anguish

[Music & lyrics : Abate, Blachier, Canavaggia, Cozzi, Lavail] Praying for an end to come Craving for the redemption, Engulfed in a morality So blind