There is a sea above me

There is a sea above me

But the wolve, the lamb and me all agree

That it's just another room

Which is above the doom

Or it's a shrine

where Tears are delivered like water to the divine

I wonder How many of those waterwings

Are coming through those doors like violins

As if there is a permanently act of loosing ourselves in strain

Just to see the self from the end till it all begins again

I'll try to keep them all locked up

in a black box full of holy water

I added some Memories to slaughter

and some Tears out of sins

There is a little lamb with Wings

A deserted wolf who sings

Some depressed crows

And the angel who rose

A fantasy of Nostalgy

And a picture of me just as an absurdity,

but I sometimes think it prevents them from melancholy.

Some of them are meant to stay

But all of them seem just passing

So I wanted to throw the black box away

But at it's bottom I found a blessing