Oh my baby my little one.
How romantic it could be
To climb the sky,
walkin'on a stair of stars, that shining Blue.
And build a hamak of clouds between the south and the north of the halfmoon
And I love you again, again, again, again
I hang my head like a snowflake-man in a burning sun
Because I'm my own ghost I'm really dead, this time.
I'm dead like the corpse in cold, cold graves
How romantic it could be
to climb the sky
in a hamak made of clouds.
А hammock made of clouds.
Oh, hamak made of clouds
My little one
Yes, a hamak made of clouds
To climb the sky
А hamak made of clouds
hamak made of clouds
My little one
Ох, малышка, моя маленькая,
Как романтично это может быть -
Подняться в небо,
Взобраться по лестнице из звезд, что сверкают синим светом.
И построить гамак из облаков между южной и северной частями полумесяца.
И я люблю тебя снова и снова, и снова, и снова.
Я склоняю голову как тающая снежинка под палящим солнцем.
Потому что я призрак, я действительно мертв, сейчас.
Я мертв, как труп в холодной-холодной могиле.
Как романтично это может быть - подняться в небо в гамак, сделанный из облаков.
Гамак из облаков
Ох, Гамак из облаков
моя малышка
да, Гамак из облаков
подняться в небо
В Гамак из облаков
Гамак из облаков
Моя малышка
Oh My Baby My Little One.
How Romantic It Could Be
To Climb The Sky,
Walkin'on A Stair of Stars, That Shining Blue.
And Build A Hamak Of Clouds Between The South and The North of the Halfmoon
And I Love You Again, Again, Again, Again
I Hang My Head Like A Snowflake-Man in a Burning Sun
Because I'm My Own Ghost I'm Really Dead, This Time.
I'm Dead Like The Corpse in Cold, Cold Graves
How Romantic It Could Be
To Climb The Sky
IN A HAMAK MADE OF CLOUDS.
And Hammock Made of Clouds.
Oh, Hamak Made Of Clouds
My Little One.
YES, A Hamak Made Of Clouds
To Climb The Sky
And Hamak Made Of Clouds
Hamak Made Of Clouds
My Little One.
Oh, baby, my little,
How romantic it can be -
Climb the sky
Climb the stairs out of the stars, which shine blue.
And build a hammock from the clouds between the southern and the northern parts of the crescent.
And I love you again and again, and again, and again.
I bow my head as a melting snowflake under the scorching sun.
Because I am a ghost, I'm really dead, now.
I'm dead as a corpse in a cold-cold grave.
How romantic it can be - climb into the sky in a hammock made from clouds.
Hammock from the clouds
Oh, hammock from clouds
My baby
yes, hammock from clouds
Climb the sky
In a hammock from the clouds
Hammock from the clouds
My baby
