The Aquarell Lyrics


Bee, kissing rose,

Cool honey of love.

Recent tired argument

Stayed alone with itself.

Motion, filled by noise

Where is silence?

Ocean of my fillings on the paper.

I must feel the water – be my hand.

Red leaves of autumn nights

Warm rays of moon lights

Recent tired argument

Stayed alone with itself.

Blue forest carries cool,

Road is near.

Stop for quench the thirst I can’t

Something disappear – that is why.