There is no great thing, to stop and sing. Waiting for the rain And this perfect pill, it's all too much. On the edge again. Don't look away. Couldn't help but note the coldest thing in your precious face Why do you always speak when you have no grace In your precious face
But even in the dark I saw you were the only one alone But these hot gates you spent your victory on Though your swore you wouldn't do this anymore And I can't be for you all of the things you want me to
But I will love you constantly
There's precious little else to me And though we cry, we must stay alive
Manchmal sagt man nicht was man meint. Und manchmal meint man nicht, was man sagt. Und manchmal wartet man auf den Regen, und es ist ein Leben lang Sommer.