Seventh chapter (Mike Naumenko)
You'll come to me exactly at midnight, you'll wake my
sleeping bell.
You'll say to me, "What a wonderful night!"
I will reply, "Yes, but I'm lonely."
And I'll brew you fresh tea and I'll get the wine from
the bar
And I'll turn off my television, not having time watch
the movie.
We'll talk about beautiful things, play with words
like in billiard,
And you'll build me a hundred air castles and one small
zoo...
But, alas! I know that I ought not to believe all thy
words –
Words mean to you more than affair, but it's nothing –
I sinned with this myself.
You'll say that life – it's a great thing and you'll present
"seven" instead of ace, And I will play you my rock 'n' roll and I will sing you
a new blues…
And, of course, you'll praise me and I'll smile you in
reply –
"I know, us it's hard understand each other, but you're
polite and I'm not angry".
And when out
of window will gleam daybreak, I will say,
"Is it not time us to sleep?" And I will lay myself on the floor, and I will lay you
on the bed. And here at last when I will fall asleep, after quieting
predawn tremble,
You'll stand up, and you'll smile
like an angel and you'll thrust to me into the back your knife And you'll wipe blood from the blade and you'll lie down to
sleep... And in a dream you'll see yourself...
And in the morning I'll get up first, I will prepare
coffee and a cake,
I will put T-Rex, and a sprightly major chord will
wake you.
And after drinking your coffee you'll go away to somewhere, after waving by
a hand to me at parting,
And I'll wash off blood from parquet and I'll find
my peace of mind.
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