When I take place of thoughts it means just solitude And mining of my own for sounds of Gold lute With heart that's always through to be inside and wrong With tickets and with note - they all are only small. All clouds of my voice do not possess my flesh But shade of hazel eyes with tender swing of lashes For me is only you that was a song of mine - Not fear for the touch, not cloud of the sky... But what is game of mine is smile of a jazz - I like to play, you know, I guess your perfect own Among your shades and names - a melody to pass... And I am your squire, Squire of Black Swan To see all wings of earth that is your dear One.