Sleepwalk in Rome
Please rain a tear of light in black ocean way.
Fellows smell of musk, through a tree-lined road,
In the dark green flow.
Outside tell me your name softly,
Outside wake me tonight slowly,
Please lead my dance with care,
With your mid-fall's rained words.
We are the friends dancing in a sleeping Rome,
Come on now, dance through the bends of a glorious past.
We drink the tears of sky with our trembling mouths,
Between earth and grey clouds.
Someone tells we are dead when our dream is gone,
How to prove to you that's wrong?
So please enjoy our dance outside,
Feel cold blue trance inside deeply,
Please lead our dance with care,
With your mid-fall's rained words.
La mota, il viso dei dormienti,
Le colpe lievi delle genti, sì.
Mi guardano come se
Niente, più niente fosse vero,
Nemmeno il cielo tra le dita
Che piange su di noi.
Stringete lana imbevuta,
Mi bagno il viso un'altra volta, no,
Non mi dite che
Dovete andare più lontano,
Umide vesti scolorite,
Che fate male sulla pelle,
Come la mota sulla pelle.
Le ore lorde degli incanti
I sogni scuri dei perdenti, sì.
Scorrono come se
Il buio fosse acqua e terra,
Torrente scuro, silenzioso.
Le labbra viola, seducenti,
Umide membra già basite.
Fellows smell of musk, through a tree-lined road,
In the dark green flow.
Outside tell me your name softly,
Outside wake me tonight slowly,
Please lead my dance with care,
With your mid-fall's rained words.
We are the friends dancing in a sleeping Rome,
Come on now, dance through the bends of a glorious past.
We drink the tears of sky with our trembling mouths,
Between earth and grey clouds.
Someone tells we are dead when our dream is gone,
How to prove to you that's wrong?
So please enjoy our dance outside,
Feel cold blue trance inside deeply,
Please lead our dance with care,
With your mid-fall's rained words.
La mota, il viso dei dormienti,
Le colpe lievi delle genti, sì.
Mi guardano come se
Niente, più niente fosse vero,
Nemmeno il cielo tra le dita
Che piange su di noi.
Stringete lana imbevuta,
Mi bagno il viso un'altra volta, no,
Non mi dite che
Dovete andare più lontano,
Umide vesti scolorite,
Che fate male sulla pelle,
Come la mota sulla pelle.
Le ore lorde degli incanti
I sogni scuri dei perdenti, sì.
Scorrono come se
Il buio fosse acqua e terra,
Torrente scuro, silenzioso.
Le labbra viola, seducenti,
Umide membra già basite.
Credits
Writer(s): Marco Soellner, Alessandro Pace
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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