Your wounded look of brown eyes.
It’s not wise.
A bitter luck to fall in love with you, twice.
A bit of pain to find your habits again,
owning you.
Like if you never were mine,
lying in my arms, singing lullaby.
Warming you.
Like if there’s no one in here.
Like if there're not my hands
cleaning the blood off your face.
Take defence!
So their spies won’t find you.
Your demons are coming,
Coming to guide you…
Early morning came along with sun glue.
It was a bit of luck
A bit of luck – to know you.