Raindrops keep falling on my head
Make my sadness grow like a tree
Sunlight is nothing but distraction
Let the sadness of our souls branch into each other
Make the thicket between us strong
And drain the power inside our souls
Until we’re too weak to let go
Choking each other with the other’s sadness
Finally cracking and falling down
Dead
Im Moment besteht mein Leben
Zum größten Teil
Aus Musik
Ich arbeite
Fahre mit dem Zug
Und habe doch nur
Musik im Kopf
Schaltet die Arbeit ab
Schaltet die Züge ab
Mein Leben soll
Musik sein
Musik soll
Mein Leben sein
There he stands
In the shadow of a house
Can’t see the people passing by
No icon of beauty
No one really understands
What he sings about
He’s there
Day and night
Summer and winter
Often alone
Then with friends
Every time I pass him by
His foreign songs
Are so familiar to me
Although I know he can’t see
I smile at him
Because his songs
Touch me
Zur Abwechslung mal auf Englisch …
Would I ever sing songs of love to you?
Would I ever show you how I feel?
How can I be sure of what to do?
How will I know whether my love is real?
Here you stand before me with fire in your eyes
Through skilled deception I have lured you here
All I ever dreamed of against all advice
Right before my very eyes I start to fear
There’s a spark in my heart that’s slightly glimmering
Like a faint shine of light in a dark work of art
Beneath infernal flames of passion
There’s a microscopic spark of doubt in my heart
You don’t give your soul to the devil by making love
Only make it strong by feeling the joy
But if you doubt what you’re doing, you’re throwing it away
Being callous playing with a living toy
This is why we’re still just talking sitting on the edge of our bed
Drinking cocktails, saying the moon outside is nice
I cant help but notice that your tenderness is gone
And your flaming eyes have slowly turned to ice
I’d have loved to give you what you wanted
But how could I get my heart out of this vice?
There’s a spark in my heart that’s slightly glimmering
Like a faint shine of light in a dark work of art
Beneath infernal flames of passion
There’s a microscopic spark of doubt in my heart
Poesie des Zwielichts 