Paulina's hands are like a long-forgotten song under a hard record-needle.
Its sounds are lazy and spin about over her head like wisps of dust.
Her sleepy eyes await the one who will come and activate the light inside.
Paulina's morning continues for a hundred billion years.
And for all those years I'm listening to the heaving of her chest.
And the windows have fogged up from her breath.
And I don't regret this endless journey of mine.
It's always, always bright in her crystal bedroom.
I know some who will live to see the end and some who won't.
But I find it equally boring to pass the time with the former and the latter.
I love you because you're waiting for
Something that can never happen.
Paulina's fingers are like candles in night-chandeliers,
Paulina's tears have turned into an endless river,
The sunrise hesitantly creeps up Paulina's doorstep.
Paulina's morning continues for a hundred billion years.
And for all those years I'm listening to the heaving of her chest.
And the windows have fogged up from her breath.
And I don't regret this endless journey of mine.
It's always, always bright in her crystal bedroom.