| I think that life is not only this touchable, fugitive
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| Which, though so beautyfull, passes away so quickly
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| You used to stand behind me, I felt warm touch, heat, passion
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| I looked back to embrace you
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| And I saw hot purple, garden in bloom
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| Woman with a secret flower in hair
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| Every day with her was a secret unknown for me
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| And when I saw her scarlet flower in her hair
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| And a raven in the sky
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| I thought the raven is only a bad sign
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| And when you danced among the flowers, high grass, bloomy
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| Meadows
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| I rised to the sky to blow away stormy clouds
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| Watching her warming up in imagined flames
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| I saw as she flew up in the night — as a bird
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| I fly up into the abbys of the air
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| And I hear the voice of the woman, so warm, so close, so painful
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| I dream you stand behind me, I feel warm touch, heat, passion
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| I look back to embrace you and I see
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| Icy blackness, deadly nothing |