Running on the waves (2007) (№ 324977)

Storm, storm, storm, storm.
We came from the sea
with a measured period of wandering
the gray small puddles.
We hide in the gloom of the sealed Windows
and tightly curtained shower.
And the wind carries away the fragments of a confession
but brings no answers.
we are the nameless waves of a mad ocean
washing the night from the dawn.
Storm, storm, storm.
And I wrapped up in a storm in the cradle.
Storm, storm, storm.
The foam spray, salt Blizzard.
Storm, storm, storm.
In the ocean, lay on the ground.
The storm, the storm is my storm.
This is our storm.