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dedicated to ***

Last summer afternoon

The last summer afternoon warm rays
The last smell of full of sun flowers
The last breath of summery freedom
Before coming back to autumn grey reality

The last joylight of the laughing soul
Before the beginning of the sorrow
The last twinkle in your eye
Before you vanish in the mist

Collecting our common thoughts
As the wind gathers wilted leaves
I organize our mutual drawer memories


Grey blues

At 4 in the morning blues
Maybe the dream comes
Perhaps in there you come

Why don't I have you so close?
Why do we speak by mails?
When I'm singing for you - it's a summer
When you will hear - will be winter

Why do I wake at 4 in the morning?
Trying to grasp something between the lines
Only one letter in mailbox
And silent sound of the night clocks

I'm singing the blues at 4 in the morning
So silent to hear the breath of the fly
Only the kettle just going crazy
And keeping my thoughts tight

I touch your sadness between the lines
I feel like nothing major incident
I would so much be more
Just drink my coffee at 4

It's five
Maybe the dream comes
Perhaps in there you come
Gypsy Autumn

Gypsy Autumn came to flirt
Flashed of the sun between the branches
Falling leaves rattled
Wind spun like a colorful skirt

Read the hand giving the rainbow hope
Colorful dreams gave to the squirrel
Whispered in the ear with the sleeping goblin
And braided web over the forgotten longing

And I hang on this web
All my sorrows, like drops of dew
And they will quietly jingled when the frost comes
Until you come to take them off by the warmth of your hands


I'm closing the garden of our dreams

I'm closing the garden of our dreams
Where nothing will never flourish
And in the well of wishes somewhere at the bottom
Will lay the key

And only wind wind wind of memories
Dispels the dark thoughts
And picture of you fades in the mist
Before the gate which is not open anymore

Last eye roll on still flourishing thoughts
So common flowerbeds
Where between the avenues of our words
Circulated warmth of the touch of our souls.

And only wind wind wind of memories
Dispel the dark thoughts
And picture of you fades in the mist
Before the gate which is not open anymore

And a little spider, my friend
Softly weaves a thread of hope
That one day may, however,
Once for this key you want to come
Why it hurts so much again?

Why is still the same?
Why good Lord,
Why creating me don't You
Let me breathe
With someone like me
Why giving me
Such sensitivity
Don't You think of
Someone to share it with?
Yes
I name it Lonelity
And the great Anonymity
Still joust of some sexual activity
Avoid of internity
Open own sensuality
Receiving only impassivity
Why is it so material?
So painful and touchable?
Why to live in such desert city
Full of people
But without ANYONE
THAT ONE Why?
Good Lord
Tell me why
Just only that awful time