Witches of papier-mâché row on a silvery lake daughters of the twilight quietness. Isolated by the world of hypocrisy by false optimists. Unsolved rebus of this puzzle society and the quiet is so sweet when it settle on their pointless sugar-loaf hats. And their magic poor wands lie on the bottom of the boat turquoise-coloured boat among the waters of the life. Few smiles again Before facing this long night, before facing this dark night, their looks cross in the cold air and the eyes fill with a white light (the night has come). Night is falling on their blond hair everything is spinning around their heads. But they go on to row in the hope to find a better place, a better world.