Sleeping is hiding from yourself.
It's dying for a moment while still living.
Later at night the moon rises,
and bringing the wind that chills my spine
it sets on the black blanket. So it rains,
tasting like nothing at all, leaving the
smell of wet grass. Silence, stillness,
you can't notice, but she's staring at us.
Sleeping feels like the smell of roses waiting
for the sun to rise, calm and peaceful.
And dreaming I remember when little, Mary and I used to play
under the rain, while everyone would sleep,
on September nights, in Dallas, Texas 1995.
Because that's all we could do when it rained in 1995.
Sleeping is living the life you wanted to live, the life in your dreams.
At day we play and laugh, hurt and cry,
win and lose, live and die. We see the butterflies
flying over the flowers, the sun rising, and suddenly we notice,
the moon is gone.
I guess we wouldn't mind to defenestrate our problems,
at least for a day,
because we are human and we all have trouble with something.
We are human, and we make mistakes,
so that's what causes all the trouble, most of the times.
The unspoken books of lies and sadness are closed at night
and we hide from the world.
We sleep and dream like tombstones.
You make your way to the balcony
and decide to kill yourself, because you are tired of sleeping.
Jessy sees you, and she doesn't blame you, she's tired of hiding too.
So that day, and tomorrow, and the day after that we will walk
to the place you stood when we last saw you, and remember
how brave you were to wake up, and finish it all.
And the dark sun still comes down when the moon decides to rise,
and life becomes serene again.
We'll have to forget you to know the reason you left.
Non aver paura, che ti troverò.
Even as the moon cry over your grave,
even as the stone melt into shame,
even as dreaming ends and sleeping becomes just a time of hate.
(By the way... "Non aver paura, che ti troverò."
"Don't be afraid, I will find you." in Italian!)
