This winter morning I shall leave too early,
The yesterday's night still remains all hazy.
But in the end what is the point to sweat it?
There's always someone to tell me about.
Pearls' handful in the palms held -
The path that I shall leave as secret passage.
To you I'm thankful for the gift of skill -
To fall asleep and see the dreams;
Dreams of something bigger.
When high time comes around for lame excuses,
What would I say to you?
That I did not see reasons to do bad things,
And I did not see chances to do better.
Something appears to have passed by,
And I'm unsure how I would tell about it.
It's not for nothing all house mirrors are argil,
So that but no one could discern in eyes
Dreams of something bigger.