Salt and cloves in your bag
stretching into the darkness.
Behind your eyes there was found.
A holy ground.
You can move out to the country side,
when your spirits broken there's nowhere to hide
you just roll on yours head.
Hold the rag to your grief.
Will the hillow that trembles,
for a life that was brief,
set fires in the grumbles.
You can move out to the country side,
when your spirits broken there's nowhere to hide
you just roll on yours head.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN