The night filters
Do not respond
Sweat is dropping
On the pillow
And my mind
Is in a larger agitation
Which is pressing the temples
Echoes of wind / Echoes of wind
My hands are searching
Your fingers
The death of sleep
And the artificial caress
I wait for the morning time
Around the night in silence
The watcher dreams the joy
That man was in the garden
The devils are waiting
Echoes of wind / Echoes of wind
My hands are searching
Your fingers
Behind that door
There's somebody calling
Edges have no end
Writer(s): Angelo Bergamini
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