T e x x t u s

Dark emptiness over the hill
and then an open attic window
the wind the wind the wind

a word that is not spoken
but softly laid upon the sill
just like a newborn frantic feather

the first is gone, the second too
the next one is not ready
there´s only a starry, starry night

waiting (there) for me

There is a whisper in my head
and these my words they are not only me
I hold your hand and you can see instead
my hands – they are not only me

I look from OUT
I look from IN
and if I´m here or there
it surely is not only me

]- +!
]—___ !
————————————————————— !
]——[ ]——[_ !
]——[ ]——[_ !

and I saw her standing there…
a lady in blue
baby blue
waiting there…
for the first train to take her to the south

. .