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.