The field of you - the Universe of Suns
All blessed and gentle. Like in ancient times
You reign, my Queens, over the Life itself
Still keeping eyes on old forgotten god.

'Tis not a string of my beloved soul
That sounds in your heart
But was it really touch and go
For us to end apart?
I was so gently touched by thee,
Alas, by thee was left
And if you think 'tis fair fee
Consider it as theft
And there, I see, we go again
Our plot's as old as Time
We're running circles, both in vain
Performing silly mime
     The future's vague, the sсript is played
     For us, perhaps, 'tis just too late

Why do I freeze under that sight of thine?
It is not fear… Or is it? Could I guess?
Like I do not belong to breathless moment's line
And try to hide from thee and silently confess
What plot we chose to run this little play?
The truth behind the curtains, masked faces,
Betrayals, dramas, healing, searching for the way
To cease the sorrow leaving selfish traces
I look at thou and wish to be that calm
An' bear the constant "four" inside the head of mine
To press my chin against thy soothing palm
And listen to the double-beating lie
     Then as the silence covers me with sleeping veil
     There's nothing left I was supposed to fail

The whole night watched by starry gaze
Thou never ever dare to faze
The sleepless wanderer. Through the night
He slips as Time and Space enswathe
All shattered memories. 'Tis his
Endeavour not to let them fade
Into the blackness. He's like the warden
Of all the outrageous grace that nothing does
But only waits.
It waits. He wanders. They don't fade.