SAINT CHRISTMAS EVE
I keep in heretical mourn
His secrets I have learned through fear.
Let God never let him reborn:
I feel he"s already so near.
I know about his damned lost soul
Much more than somebody could know:
We spent our lives just to crawl
Around this blind dying world,
And I still have right to be sure,
It wasn"t just seen in vain dream.
My memory"s my only cure,
I saved every thought about him,
Remembering, how much he loved
The tough steps across rock thin line,
Remembering, how much he loved
The bloody-red sweet poisoned wine.
He loved every night on the Earth
For chance it could once become last,
He loved when the death"s changing birth,
When time turns the flesh into dust.
He loved watching at dancing flame
And touching it"s tongues by the hand.
He loved listening whisper of rain
And drawing the sings on the sand. 
He loved walking between the graves,
Enjoying that silent gloom peace:
It"s only place where he felt safe,
Together with angels he missed.
He always loved that burning sky
Before the first lightning of storm,
He loved his illusions and lie
For it"s nasty glamour and charm.
He loved feeling left with no one
And helplessly falling, like leaf...
He did never love only sun
And songs in the Saint Christmas Eve.