en

flying just like stardust in the wind, times that we live in are getting stranger; no more school with endless boring lessons — risky, long and desperate crusade. from within a snow globe souvenir night is coming, warping through dimensions: hemisphere of shimmering is pressing down on all the dry and freezing sand. somewhere in between the time and space we are floating in the blissful present — can't believe each moment disappears, in the morning nothing will remain. but today I wish that I could stay one more moment in the winter desert: seventeen depressing, lonely years ended on the day when we first met. shooting stars like tears on empty canvas — rain is long forgotten and forbidden — fall in sandy dunes, so tired of flying, every drop is just another shard. milky way is burning far above us, our spirits bound with shiny ribbon, once again the fate is painting blindly something that will tear us all apart.