I am leaning on a door.
In which I can see
A rainy world through a window.
You have too many reasons.
Itıs a very heavy door.
In front of me there is a wall.
A wall sagging under the weight of paintings.
In which flowers
Will soon blossom.
I am standing on a grave,
The grave that holds my love.
I am told that outside,
The rain it will be heavy.
© World Beat Records 1996