Every morning
I see her get up
She turns on the light
And opens her heart

Remains of her dreams
Dance or her forehead
The sun comes up smiling
When she's combing her hair

I love those gentle moves
As she puts on her make-up
A flower in blossom
In small marble footsteps

She is my angel
My conscience, my wall
The velvet voice inside me
My guard and my soul

I see her wings
As she steps out the door...
But now she is leaving
Without me, alone -