The phoenix
«And from the ashes a Phoenix rose — with
wings made of gold it
gently touched me, a touch of relief. I was
ready to start a new
circle, hoping it would never come to an
end.
«Never too late for hope» — the grey ice
melted — slowly…»
SPRING
Where is my world,
The beggining of my life bound,
Surrounded by light,
Wandering aimlessly around.
Hearing voices calling my name
While i hover, world`s dark stain.
Where is my summertime?
I`m longing for its warmth,
Far too long i shivered
In winter`s icy force
Clouds are above me
Mid air caresses my lungs
I let myself drift, waiting for spring sun.
Soft grass — but it hurts to go over it,
Pointed stings — running between i stick
Brooks are roading, the water blood red
Please let me drink, but i can`t, i`m dead.
Souls are screaming, mothers and sons
Are slaughtering themselves, am i teaching
a dream…
[Repeat 1. + 2. verse]