Hands Towards Heaven

I left my dream in a hotel room drawer;
I sailed my hope to the sea in a paper boat made of two sheets;
I painted my memories in my own colour to the streets I passed and walls I touched ...
One day, if I find that drawer empty in that hotel room,
If the sea doesn't bring my paper boat back,
Or if the streets and walls are all paintless when I return,
Does it matter?

When my hands are towards heaven,
My forehead on the bar counter,
We are so strong that we can blow off all the roofs,
Ended up in Heaven
Where angels cry
And all is forgiven...

When my hands are up in the air,
Already drunk,
And life is meaningless,
Who cares?...

The night is so beautiful,
You are like the night
And I am a winner again...