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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required This northern city with headlights-eyes Has buried me in its cold and gloom; You'll see this place in a dreadful guise And once sweet home will seem a tomb Once you're aware there's no way out, Once dreams of youth say goodbye and grin. It goes farther and makes me doubt In all the things I have ever seen. Its blood has turned into ice and snow - It's endless winter in every heart. The winds of grief never cease to blow, The art of grief is the greatest art. And once in this cradle of dirt and despair A wandering stranger demanded my mind. He asked me about this damned northern air I'd better not breathe - I would leave it behind. He said: "I'm in love with this misery, miss. Destruction is right what we need to create. True art is in grief, I've been dreaming of this. My yesterday's fortune's tomorrow's fate. I know all secrets my destiny knows, So this boring dwelling won't be a surprise". I thought: "He's my twin, and it clearly shows". That evening he opened my widely shut eyes. A perfect stranger has built a wall To be a shield from this gloom and lies, From endless rains of this city's gall That falls on me from the shattered skies. The wave of feelings can warm the days Of dull existence in Bitterland And melt the ice in this rotten place, In every heart that it's due to mend. This northern city with headlights-eyes Has turned us down in its nasty voice And... brought together. We've paid the price Of fate to fortune. We've made the choice.
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