There is a train which passes
A house that trembles,
And the sky bends
Above long-awaited blackberry
And a shiver runs
Along all the back.
The years of shit,
Perhaps, it's just a bruise.
It is the life which passes,
It is your heart which trembles,
It is my body which bends
Above your nerves of rag,
It is an area of bones
And a lief is already died,
The area doesn't come any more to the head.
What does it matter to us?
What does it matter to us?
How many trains pass and will,
The time will run away as a train
Towards another direction
Which no one and never will know.
What does it matter to us?
What does it matter to us?
How many trains pass and will.
There is a train which passes
Memories and the back,
It is coloured in blood
It is an evening sky,
And it plunges into the dirt
As if of a cream.
I stay in the shadow
Drawn on a canvas.
It is the life which passes,
It is your ass which trembles,
It is my body which is sinking
Into the sea of wax.
The bones are like crystal,
The last leaf is dying,
These years of shit.
Perhaps, it's just a bruise.
It is the life which passes,
It is your heart which trembles,
It is my body which bends
Above your nerves of rag,
It is an area of bones
And a lief is already died,
The area doesn't come any more to the head.
What does in matter to us?
It is not worth any more
To leave,
It is not worth.
I don't want to die
Among the ghosts.
I don't want to disappear
Among the ghosts of autumn.
I just want to sleep
As they do it in autumn.
This summer is already gone out,
Gone out in your eyes
As this train which is passing...
It is the train which is passing...
It is the train which is passing...
It is the train which is passing...
Us...
It is the train which is passing...
Stop that train...