When you no longer call for me
The echo will be gentle,
And the living room
Will be draped* in white.
When you no longer call for me
The clock will be broken
And many new meanings -
On the drawn face.
Sing my story
So that I might never ever forget it
Tell me the news,
It sounds well when you say it anyhow.
Gather my work
And show me the shortest way,
Take me anywhere,
But tell me that I don't ask for too much...
For too much.
When you no longer open
The drawer in your eyes,
Sealed will that be
And pray – within deciphering.**
When you no longer open it
I will be able to listen to you,
Trapped within thousands of thoughts
In such old pages.
Sing my story
So that I might never ever forget it
Tell me the news,
It sounds well when you say it anyway.
Gather my work
And show me the shortest way,
Take me anywhere,
But tell me that I don't ask for too much...
For too much... for too much...
And tell me that I don't ask for too much.