Песни

It suddenly feels like a new year,
Like I’m a million miles away from here.
I can see some kind of light here,
Although I can’t name it.

I want to talk about moonlight,
I want to talk about the wild child, you know,
That real wild one, dancing alone
In the middle of the whirlpool.

Spinning tales about silence,
About radio silence,
About some kind of asylum
In the middle of an empty field full of danger.

It’s strange I don’t feel like I’m a stranger;
I feel like I belong here,
I feel like I’ve been waiting for a long time,
And now I can tell you some stories,

Stories about the madmen,
Stories about the dream-child,

You know, that real wild one,
Who dance alone
In the middle of the whirlpool.
And I can tell you about silence,
About radio silence,
About some kind of asylum
In the middle of an empty field full of danger.

If you want it…

The postcard

This is a postcard
Saying I’m alright in this beautiful city,

This is a phone call
Saying, yes, I am sleeping alone here,
But the telephone lines are cut,
My hands can’t hold the paper –
You are on my mind…

Nobody knows your name here,
Except when the moon is out.
And then they toss in their sleep
Crying out for you to take them,
But me I cannot sleep,
I cannot dream,
My heart is shattered –
You are on my mind…

Once seven colors used to make a man blind,
And now we are like birds stuck in barbed wire,

Precise, like sunrise,
A child just like any other,
Made of the bones of the earth,

Fragile and deathless.
Yes, I’m alright,
I’m a church,
And I’m burning down.

You are on my mind…

The Wind

Your eyes are colored like wind,
The Wind from the northern sea.
A wave on the sand so clear,
Whoever got me that far must be laughing;
Alright, I can laugh as well.

So sweet is your touch,
May I never go free,
But I’m breaking away
To return unbound,
And I hear the sound
Behind my shoulder
Like the shape of the swan, gliding,

And when the trees are bare,
There will be nowhere to return to
But we stay, believing.
Your eyes are colored like wind…
Bringing incredible news
I don’t know if I’m ready,
Does it matter?
Whoever cut me that deep,
I love you.
And here I stand, transfixed,
Listening to the sound of the wind.

The Time