Leave me with my tragedies,
Those who stick to me like wet leaves
In the
(dry) sunlight.
My face is frozen, byt my eyes still see,
For I am in your dreams and fantasies
Leave me with my misery,
The one who cover me with glory
And enter me like a slave in the dry sunlight.
That light that burned my face
To what you can see, a tragedy...
...it sculptured me...
For I am your dreams and fantasies.
Dreams, like deserts.
Dreams, like stone.
Dreams from flesh to bone.
Dreams, like deserts.
Dreams that moan,
For I am in your twilight-zone.
Leave me with my destiny, the one who lick my scars.
The one who grants its flesh to me, and to my marbled anxiety.
My soul is frozen, my flesh is weak, for I am dreams and fantasies.
Writer(s): Carl Michael Eide, Ole Jorgen Moe
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