The thing Which is here is a room
The morning when the sun doesn't rise
And only sound of the broken door
That is creaked in a backyard

The voice which can be heard at midnight
That can be still sometimes heard
Somewhere which isn't far from here
Someone calling my name

Brightest story always around me
Flowing and floating slowly around me
Brightest story always around me
Flowing and floating slowly around me

Began to use glasses recently
Feels like seeing thing which couldn't be seem
The man has a black bag peeps into my room
And laughs, a body is entrusted to music

The voice which can be heard at midnight
That can be still sometimes heard
Somewhere which isn't far from here
Someone calling my name

Brightest story always around me
Flowing and floating slowly around me
Brightest story always around me
Flowing and floating slowly around me

What I can do now, only sees it, going down