Eleven Lights - Nocturne | Текст песни

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• Eleven Lights
• Nocturne

Nocturne

wake, sun has died
wake, morrow's thawing
numbers and things
are illusive and killing themselves now

i will love your fingers and
i'll be
your wounded snow
like a snow

in snow

there's only death
noble as Chopin
lonely in spaces
sadness in tales

i will love your strangeness
i'll be
your wounded snow
like a snow
in snow

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