Song For A Sailor

• Hundreds
• Let’s Write The Streets

Is this the last meeting place?

Will you find me inside the haze?

And will you come?

Will you come?

While you are searching me, my work is done

Please tell nobody that I am real

They will run over you

It will never heal

You must forget

You must forget

Lies this in between certain kind of regret

I see them side to be wide

On the birds of the flowers

I will not move

But the wind is blowing

In the fields

I will not move

But the wind is blowing, the wind is blowing

In the fields

And in the end you came to late

Let’s talk to my hair

I guess that’s a fate

I will grow fast

The highest tree in the field

You bark up at last

I close my eyes,

Recognize your steps at the meadow

I will make a single noise

In my lovely cave