The thing Which is here is a room The morning when the sun doesn't rise And only sound of the broken door That is creaked in a backyard
The voice which can be heard at midnight That can be still sometimes heard Somewhere which isn't far from here Someone calling my name
Brightest story always around me Flowing and floating slowly around me Brightest story always around me Flowing and floating slowly around me
Began to use glasses recently Feels like seeing thing which couldn't be seem The man has a black bag peeps into my room And laughs, a body is entrusted to music
The voice which can be heard at midnight That can be still sometimes heard Somewhere which isn't far from here Someone calling my name
Brightest story always around me Flowing and floating slowly around me Brightest story always around me Flowing and floating slowly around me
