We listen to the skies

'

Tomorrow I'm going back to Finland for Christmas after twelve weeks of studying (and four days of absolutely perfick leisure!) in London. Right now I could write you (among other things) about my vampire studies, the Imperial War Museum, Doctor Who, local identities and dialects on British Isles and about new wave of humour considering Maggie Thatcher's tyrannical reign and the biographical motion picture Iron Lady that is about to be released. However, you'll have to make do with another translation of a song that has defined my life. It's rather different from the previous ones so I do hope you forgive me for this (again) lame pay off. Anyway, I do wish you merry Yule tide. You'll hear from me soon enough (I promise)!

Yours on the eve of flight,

-Stefan

'
We listen to the skies
'
Is there love in the air?
Is it safe outside today?
Or have God and Allah
Both taken their leave?

I won't open the front door,
'Cause the history of our future is lurking there.
I won't look under the mat,
'Cause the innocence of the world has been swept there.
But I can always pray...

So, we listen to the skies, even though they won't answer
God has fallen asleep or carries on creating
Perhaps on the other side of the cosmos, where ever that might be
I'll get my answer as soon as I die, but the road is so very long

Is everything alright, USA?
Has the life there been warlike enough?
Or is there love in the air?
After all it was invented there in Hollywood
Or has evil got its share?
For good has sold its face,
Or just its reflection to evil...

So, we listen to the skies, even though they won't answer
God has fallen asleep or carries on creating
Perhaps on the other side of the cosmos, where ever that might be
I'll get my answer as soon as I die, but the road is so very long

So, we listen to the skies, even though they won't answer
God has fallen asleep or carries on creating
Perhaps on the other side of the cosmos, where ever that might be
I'll get my answer as soon as I die, but the road is so very long

Life is for single-use only, day is recycling day.
I'm begging more time from the night, and the answers go with the wind

So, we listen to the skies, even though they won't answer
God has fallen asleep or carries on creating
Perhaps on the other side of the cosmos, where ever that might be
I'll get my answer as soon as I die, but the road is so very long

Where are you hiding, God?
Are within me or outside of me?
Or behind it all...?