07.06.2018
Awaken
Versions: #2A soft dream is scorching my brain,
A child on the sand is laughing his head off.
A hand is sinking in my forehead,
What country is that?
Leaves are laughing on the dying trees,
Drunk boats wander through hours,
The forgotten ones are waiting on the shores of the present.
The flute is babbling, the mirror is screaming,
Tired distant voices are fading away.
Dwarves are going to the woods
And haunting queens.
Leaves are laughing on the dying trees,
Drunk boats wander through hours,
The forgotten ones are waiting on the shores of the present.