Paroles

Cynical Sense - Portraits of Happy Times (8) Snow

there were four of us pointing at the night sky
snowflakes falling like white feathers
illuminated by the moon's gleam
we thought they were the tears of the stars
beacause only the proud moon could shine to our eyes
we were very young and we tried to blow the barrier
that were forming the clouds

our four breaths gathered by our fear
of never see the stars again
at midnight in a chill wind
slow motion of our bodies
in the snow sweet crackles under our feet
the heat of cold snow in our hands brought us joy
the snowballs were carrying our dreams

and in the morning the sky is rose
and the trees are statues of ice
a silence.. no singing birds
the white coat of snow purifies our souls
as it hides our fears and memories
and when the sun melts it away
we'll leave our dreams
and put our feet back on the muddy groud