My own garden is quiet and pacefull,
nobody with an evil mind can live in there,
and I guess I couldnīt too.
Is too perfect to be real,
itīs so perfect that I hate it,
like all Ido...
it gives me pleasure and sweetly torture me.
Where are you love?
Are you too perfect to exist in this world?,
in this world...
in this world...
The simple idea to end alone
doesnīt leave me in peace one second
and I need you even more.
I feel like into a bottle,
seeing the sun through a little hole
and thereīs no place for anyone else,
itīs no time to peep the head
yet remember I tried and then returned,
into there...
into there...
Itīs easier to be happy outside
but itīs better when you learn to stay inside,
so high, so far, so real...
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