Deaf and vulnerable.
I don’t believe you, you’re lying
Shrewdly and skilfully.
Will, blind and helpless,
Sadly listless.
And I try to find my way
In the dark and disorder,
With childish cowardice
And lingering in thorny matters.
Chill north winds tell me
About a late and nostalgic November.
I can hear them from my hiding place,
Through a thin opening.
Will, you have stayed
Sadly disabled.
I don’t believe you, you’re lying,
Clumsily, but unperturbed.
And I try to find my way
In the dark and disorder,
With fawning cowardice
And lingering in whirling matters.
Chill north winds tell me
About a late and nostalgic November.
I can hear them from my hiding place,
Through a thin opening.
Chill north winds tell me
About a late and nostalgic November.
I can hear them from my hiding place,
Through a thin opening.