Featherflute-Depressive Age

Kilja is my bird, she cannot sing Chemistry has boiled her strings She said: "Built your hut on my wing" Kilja is the bird who 'catch my fall from a bridge with suicide toll Now I try to wake her bride call Quiet waves my window sill Real is the miracle And the virgin lust of my new born trust can excite us like a double moon in love Kilja writes a poem line in the sand 'bout a norwegian fjord shore bend where a filter breaks the sunstand Secrets in your ever changing suit makes my voice to your substitute 'cause I know Kilja means the "Featherflute" Quiet waves my window sill Real is the miracle And the virgin lust of my new born trust can excite us delight us like a cannon of the winds Quiet waves my window sill Real is the miracle And the virgin lust of my new born trust can excite us and delight us Sometimes I wish to fall your cure, then it's jealousy what rules 'cause your bride call would pull a charming bird into your urge