back home

When our last summer passed
and white clouds turned to grey.
Hard rain fell on me,
my white skin melt to dirt.

I hear sparrows calling my name,
they bring me back home,
we have no more time to stay,
when next spring is coming
and the wild flowers blow.
They bring me back home to you,
they bring you back home to me.

So lay down your head and cry for me
wind will dry your tears
my sweet love
you give to me.

I hear sparrows calling your name
it´s time to go home
we have no more time to stay
when next spring is coming
and the wild flowers blow.
They bring me back home to you
they bring you back home to me.

written by Volker Roman Merschky und Simone Pfaff
März 2008