Goldberg's variations had permitted sleep And the turning in my stomach had awakened me The dim blue light through my window Had all but calmed me I would stay up late into the night Until the sun had warmed the Earth Gripping at patterns of the morning Fighting the sequences before my eyes The sun rises and my panic begins I've spent all night sick to my stomach As if imagination were a disease I'm tired, and I hope the sun burns us all The Night was complex and I could not break free it's secrets I wake with the sun and I'm ill with the sunTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
