In the squeaking rocking chair
I leave my weakness.
I don´t regret passed years.
Well, maybe a little part.
Some people are scared by years,
for others the years are only useful.
They are slipping away like a smoke
from cigarette. (2X)
I want to fly away
after a maple leaf
and slowly burn down with bitter smoke
so I won´t remember
how I used to dance in my dream.
On a rusted knife-edge
I didn´t lose a single fight,
I got so tired, so tired.
A long time ago
I used to be impatient youngster
with fresh and gentle face
and I believed in only one thing -
mutual love, loyal friends,
and God always just.
I can reach the sun,
I haven´t burn my wings.
What used to seem stupid before
turned out to be tranquil truth.
And under blanket of leaves
I will hide my weakness.
But I dont´t feel like playing anymore
about who I was, and who I became.
On the rusty needle-edge
I used to dance like in a dream.
It is close on midnight
on hoarse old clock
and snow, as if counting backwards (?)
starts to appear in my hair.