Besedila: Zao. The Race Of Standing Still.

I'm racing racing towards it
Like when I was a small boy
Cutting through a waving field
Decorated by summer sunlight
Unable to remember
Unable to forget
Unable yet at peace
Unable yet scared
I'm racing racing towards it with fear and excitement
They seem unseperable
They seem so far apart
They are my close friends
They are my very ghosts
I'm racing towards it
Holding perfectly still
In the race of standing still