Everything we feared was swept inside a little box got out of sight for many years while we would talk about tomorrow. Two pedestals, a crowded room, we'd both lay out our past but only touch a glass divide that grew a little wider every night. But your memory was hungry and I watched you court your shadows in reverse. And from my corner, I would curse but never say a word. Still I like to think that we shared. Still I like to think we truly cared. And sure we had our dreams, but never dared. Tell me, lover, what's in like in there? Shuffling downstairs to the Blue Room…
Синяя комната
Все наши страхи были сметены внутрь маленькой коробочки, убраны с глаз долой на много лет, пока мы говорили про завтрашний день. Два пьедестала, комната, наполненная людьми; нам бы выложить друг другу свое прошлое, но мы только касаемся стеклянной преграды, которая становится все толще каждую ночь. Но твоя память была голодна, и я смотрел, как ты «ухаживала» за своими тенями. И мне хотелось выругаться из своего угла, но я не скажу ни слова. Мне и сейчас нравится думать, что мы делились друг с другом. Мне нравится думать, что мы и вправду заботились друг о друге. И конечно, каждый мечтал о своем, но не осмеливался сказать. Скажи мне, любимая, как там? Плетемся вниз по лестнице, в Синюю комнату Everything we feared was swept inside a little box got out of sight for many years while we would talk about tomorrow. Two pedestals, a crowded room, we'd both lay out our past but only touch a glass divide that grew a little wider every night. But your memory was hungry and I watched you court your shadows in reverse. And from my corner, I would curse but never say a word. Still I like to think that we shared. Still I like to think we truly cared. And sure we had our dreams, but never dared. Tell me, lover, what's in like in there? Shuffling downstairs to the Blue Room ...
Blue room
All our fears were swept away inside a small box, removed from sight for many years, while we talked about tomorrow. Two pedestals, a room filled with people; we would share our past with each other, but we only touch the glass barrier, which gets thicker every night. But your memory was hungry, and I watched as you “courted” your shadows. And I wanted to swear out of my corner, but I won't say a word. I still like to think that we were sharing with each other. I like to think that we really did care about each other. And of course, each dreamed of his own, but did not dare to say. Tell me, love, how is it? Climbing down the stairs to the Blue Room