Grey station*
Tied up
By cold winds,
By secrets.
Each whistle
At full speed.
I burned comets.
But where are you?

I,
Through the capillaries
Haven't neglected
Your telegrams.
Melt, melt,
Melt on my hands snow.
Melt, turns into tears.
The answers
Are mine.

Grey station
Punished
By your lies,
Wounds.
To wait and smoke,
Not to forget.
The pupil contracts,
It doesn't count...

Chorus

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