|
I blow the dust from your lips and beg forgiveness |
|
But there's too much moonlight on your skin |
|
I rise and face the day |
|
Another weary sinner |
|
I can't feel your touch in the blaze of noon |
|
At night I haunt the boulevard |
|
To the songs of Sacha |
|
I need the touch of fingers on my skin |
|
Then the sunrise seeks you through a maze of dragons |
|
And drops its touch |
|
On the fir trees in the wind |
|
They say that ice will melt |
|
Marble can blind you |
|
Doesn't matter what you felt |
|
No-one can find you |
|
To remind you |
|
Cause you're a statue nothing can hurt you |
|
You've lost the touch |
|
Cause you're a statue nothing can hurt you |
|
You've lost the touch |
|
No one can find you |
|
Or move you |
