Sitting on a beautiful hill
I often see funny colourful dreams
Where I’m swimming in wine
And laughing beauties a dozen
Are splashing round me
So bummed and bosommed...
Sitting on a beautiful hill
I often dive into the unconsciousness
An‘ there I’m able to see
Things forever unknown
Such as me after death
Such as you before born...
Sitting on a beautiful hill
I do pretend rich and mighty to be
And I live in a castle
Of windows thousand
But as I open my eyes I wonder
Isn’t it everything made of sand?...
29.07.99.
inspired by a B.Grebenshikov’s song of the same name