| Here floats from childhood
|
| Home, my old home
|
| Where I sang songs
|
| Grandma under the window.
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| Life is going somewhere
|
| But above your head
|
| Everything, everything, everything is spinning
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| The ball is blue.
|
| In that song, secret, secret, secret
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| Both daring and sad
|
| Her motive is simple
|
| But then, it worries me.
|
| You are with me together
|
| Sing, sing, sing, sing!
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| Spinning-spinning blue ball,
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| Spinning, spinning overhead
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| Spinning, spinning, wants to fall,
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| And the gentleman wants to steal the young lady.
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| Spinning, spinning, wants to fall,
|
| And the gentleman wants to steal the young lady.
|
| Here I hear again
|
| That guitar ringing
|
| With her, as if closer
|
| Far from the past.
|
| The world is a big orchestra
|
| And I'm just a string in it,
|
| And an old song
|
| My life is full.
|
| In that song, secret, secret, secret
|
| Both daring and sad
|
| Her motive is simple
|
| But then, it worries me.
|
| You are with me together
|
| Sing, sing, sing, sing!
|
| Dear long and moonlit night,
|
| Yes, with the song that flies into the distance, ringing,
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| Yes, with that old one and with the seven-string.
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| That tormented me so much at night.
|
| Here floats from childhood
|
| My house, old house,
|
| Where I sang songs
|
| Grandma under the window.
|
| The world is a big orchestra
|
| And everyone in it is a string,
|
| And a good song
|
| My life is full.
|
| In that song, secret, secret, secret
|
| Both daring and sad
|
| Her motive is simple
|
| But, as then, I'm worried,
|
| You are with me together
|
| Sing, sing, sing, sing!
|
| Oh, my box is full,
|
| There are chintz and brocade in it.
|
| Have pity, my sweetheart,
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| Youth shoulder.
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| Have pity, my sweetheart,
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| Youth shoulder. |