The night is painted with ink
so deep. You could soak yourself in.
Feeling her breath on your neck.
Go dancing. Or stay.
Watch. Stay.
The crooked trees toss shadows
over the streets
and snow has covered everything.
With white silence.
In the corners cats hide.
And drunken lovers.
The night is painted with ink.
The way back home is getting longer
and cosy feels the unbalance.
Word do not get imprisoned
but drift me away.
It got dark inhere.
and silent.