| "Edges" |
| 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
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