Wait for it now, for your turn, I brought you ointment for your burn
too much fun in the sun could kill someone.
Run little magpie, run run run, you got kissed by the lip of his gun
red ribbon cut on a new freedom.
Black raven on a fence, taken for a crow,
you let your hair grow and the wind blows.
Wait for it now, for your turn
you didn’t win, but you can learn
too much fun in the sun…
Sit little birdie, stay some more,
chairs squeak on the kitchen floor,
windows open for you
just for fun.
Black raven on a fence, taken for a crow,
you let your hair grow and the wind blows.
Page after page I begin to understand you,
and night after night, patience is a virtue,
and year after year, we all become clear and see-through.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN