Although it's July, icicles are hanging from my lips
You greeted me again with a bin full of ice
You smothered the fire, although it still smouldered a little bit
Every day I burn at your side
I put the key into the narrow slit of the mouth
Let it be silence
The knive is already willing in the cabinet
It's ready for separation
I thought that I'll wait until
This arctic chill is over
Under a warm blanket I'll bend my bones
I lurk like a coward under the polar circle
Looking for the vector of love
I put the key into the narrow slit of the mouth
Let it be silence
The knive is already willing in the cabinet
It's ready for separation