To live in a house built by Horta
To find a home for my world-weary heart
Golden light will float in the air
Rose champagne and raspberry tart
My feet will brush the creme velvet floor
Brass handles, soft tassels and the highest doors
Elves and fairies sneaking in the corners
The corners, the corners of my mind
My cameras on the mantle
My books in secret drawers
A big bed full of dreams
Peppernoten, coffee and sugar cream
To live here and to live then
Open the windows say good night to the stars
Will I be free will I be me when?
Will I live in the golden house, the golden house from the past?
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