The final rain is almost not a rain
Look how simple is to find its peace
And just believing, that tomorrow a new day will come.
Makes everything so neat.
Oh, please, don't let this night to ever end.
I think my house is no longer a home.
Look how easy are they, playing their own game.
Behind glass on the wall.
I think I start to recognize myself
In that small boy reciting poems there
He seized the clock hands in his palm just to delay the dawn
And blood falls off his hand.
It seems that it is only a game
A game behind the mirrored window pane
The night is over, but we didn't even lose a thing
The coming day is very much the same.
