Dream Room

Christina Rosenvinge

My father´s hand is softer in the dark,
I hear the garden noises falling apart.
His kiss is almost blind but full of love,
I close my eyes and hear a thunder above.

Who´s polishing my little shoes?
Always so precise.
Who looks into my eyes to see
the colour of these eyes?

You with your fancy ties
in your falling tower,
deep dark water,
there´s a bell that´s calling sadly for you.

My father leaves the room and nothing is said,
forgets a tiny demon under my bed.
There may be other nights as thin and rare
but I will have my own and nothing to spare.

Who´s waiting for the grass to grow
hiding every lie?
Who´s standing by the garden door
staring at the sky?

You with your peaceless mind,
gone finest hour,
sweet and sour,
there´s a bell that´s calling sadly for you.

You with your fancy ties
in your falling tower,
deep dark water,
there´s a bell that´s calling sadly for you.

You with your peaceless mind,
gone finest hour,
sweet and sour,
there´s a bell that´s calling sadly for you.