Meek, Oh Why? - Siódma noc

Chorus

Tell my why do you some much grief? You make sleepy world sad.
You've got a stair from heaven if you want. An oneiric town bows down to your feet, so fall asleep. Seventh night.
Tell my why do you some much grief? You make sleepy world sad.
You've got a stair from heaven if you want.

Once upon a time, before six nights
I fell asleep like a bear and I started to paint
a world with words, and now I'm going on a way and I see trees changed into candyfloss, so my plan's succeed.
Now I'm going on a way and I'm looking at stairs, which add charm to the cloudless Seventh Night. This Seventh Night I was about not to do anything, but I have to create an one thing and you're this one thing.
Although I know you by heart I have no power to write, I spent to much time creating the town.
You were about to be created at the end, but now I can lose you if I'd limply fallen asleep.
It's almost an eighth dawn, I'll lose my creating power any minute now, whole society sleeps, painted with words, well, but there's no you, although you should have been, I wanted to swim with you in sparkling water at the Seventh Night.
I'll go to the park. With the end of my power I'll be painting you lying by this fern hammock. The town is a nonsense without you, whenas it's pretty, it should have gladden your eyes.

Tell my why do you some much grief? You make sleepy world sad.
You've got a stair from heaven if you want. An oneiric town bows down to your feet, so fall asleep. Seventh night.
Tell my why do you some much insomia? You make sleepy world sad. You've got a stair from heaven if you want.
An oneiric town bows down to your feet, so fall asleep. Seventh night.

I'm lying in a park. I'm not sure whether I live in a dream or it's still a oneiric-towny facts zone. I must to write you down before the eighth dawn comes, but I don't now if I could, I already have a lot of sand in my eyes.
You were about being a highlight of works. I don't know how it happened that by the Seventh Night I'm still alone. You were about being a highlight of works, but I took me to much to create my town, my plans went up to smoke thanks to time.
I'm lying in a park. I'm not sure whether I live in a dream or it's still a oneiric-towny facts zone. I can see a white doo that I know well, I pick up my pieces, but I cannot get up after all. I can see the eighth dawn.