Off The Ship

The dawn whispers your name

I slightly wake up

As if the night died

And hope hit my chest.

It is insomnia, companion and parasite

Owner of all the poet's writings

Queen of the widowers' lament

Sovereign of the cold mornings

The sun is coming slightly

But its heat no longer heats up

He's one more condemned to loneliness

He listens to the whispers of the night

She beats him every evening

Night, cold and inhuman mother

That strokes the son and poisons him

When the sun falls pale to the ground

Hold me like death

Deliver me from your love

Night, herald of the dawns of pain

Rip my hollow chest

Devours me in the cold dawn

Don't let the sun warm me

It's still winter on the dark side of the moon

Let me get drunk with illusions.