LIQUID SKIN
It was silent night in the heart of the winter,
With it's northern winds and dances of silver stars,
And the sleeping ice deserts were full of the glitter,
And the Devil was holding whole the world in his arms.
I was only a wanderer on the land of the Gipsies,
Wild owners of everything, who belong to no one,
Feeling air, that always gives them frozen kisses,
Wearing black dress of darkness to hide their wounds,
When I suddenly saw his pale face, slender body,
And his dead sinful beauty made me speachless and blind...
Seemed like after the death he anyway had to find me,
Seemed like I heard his voice in my heart, deep inside.
There were only winedrops on his lips, bloody bracelets
On his neck and his hands, making snow around red...
And I wished this December night could become endless,
Wished I could always stroke his hair and touch his hand.
Maybe, he was born somewhere in beautiful Finland,
Where the rivers are free and the moon can't be seen,
Was so lost and so lonely until present evening -
It was all written by scarlet color on liquid skin.
Maybe, he touched the fire of young gipsy demons,
But this fire's the pain, it kills and never gives warm,
And it burned him, when this disaster came freaky near
And the graveland of dreams turned into his new home.