I wander the street alone,
|
when the night lights come on
|
and the day went to sleep.
|
Old green light
|
stroking stone houses,
|
what he can wish for.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And none of them will give me back
|
your sentence with a secret oath,
|
that you love me.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And he will not return what he seizes.
|
And every morning with courage,
|
I want to know where they are going.
|
I keep my breakfast secret,
|
I know how tears taste.
|
Like heat and smoke.
|
I also read long novels,
|
my dreams are interwoven with ice.
|
Where to go, and with whom?
|
And with whom?
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And none of them will give me back
|
your sentence with a secret oath,
|
that you love me.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And he will not return what he seizes.
|
And every morning with courage,
|
I want to know where they are going.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And none of them will give me back
|
your sentence with a secret oath,
|
that you love me.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And he will not return what he seizes.
|
And every morning with courage,
|
I want to know where they are going.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And none of them will give me back
|
your sentence with a secret oath,
|
that you love me.
|
They go, they go, the weeks go.
|
And he will not return what he seizes.
|
And every morning with courage,
|
I want to know where they are going. |