Trouble Your Door

Don't let the old man's bad luck, trouble your door
'Cause you sleep on the right side of the disappointment
Eight years, five months, four days and one hour ago
I keep changing, but without moving, without a purpose

I can't trouble your door
I can't trouble your door

It's the Aula[?], of [?] won't trouble your door
It's Mercury and Venus, it's a part of [?] porter
It's an Alphabet and a Calendar of the dreams you had before
It's the drone of dumb voices on a morning[?] street turning colder

I can't trouble your door
I can't trouble your door

I can't trouble your door
I can't trouble your door

I can't trouble your door
I can't trouble your door

I can't trouble your door
I can't trouble your door