The champagne cascaded over my impeccable lawn,
I am not afraid of anything, except the sun fading on the horizon,
A mountain in the mist, it looks like it’s moving towards me,
The dawn caresses the face of Fitzgerald, its tears turn into hours,
I hold the night so tightly in my hands, to make light out of it,
I am not afraid of anything but the dust that is hurting my dreams,
And of this treacherous sun that makes madness impossible,
Let me forget the night, let me burn the snow,
I am afraid of nothing but the sun fading on the horizon,
I have done the impossible to delay the night,
I, who have no church, have erected a cathedral for you
Idealism is an asylum for those who have read on your lips
I am afraid of nothing but the sun fading on the horizon,
I have done the impossible to delay the night,
I, who have no church, have erected a cathedral for you
Idealism is an asylum for those who have read on your lips
And the twilight steals from my sight pages learned by heart,
I, who have no church, lit a candle for Francis Scott
And the wind blew out every light. I looked up at the ceiling of the nave
I’m not afraid of anything but the darkness that makes miracles impossible,
Nightshades 