How many unwritten songs are yet to come, cuckoo?
Tell me, cuckoo, sing.
Am I to live in the city or the country,
to lie like a stone, or burn like a star?
A star.
Sunshine of mine - look at me,
my palm has turned to a fist.
And if you have the powder - give me a flame.
That's it.
Who is to take the lonely road?
The strong and the brave,
who laid down their heads in battle.
The few whose memory shines still.
With a sober mind, and a strong hand in the ranks.
In the ranks.
Sunshine of mine - look at me,
my palm has turned to a fist.
And if you have the powder - give me a flame.
That's it.
Where are you now, my free will?
With whom are you greeting the gentle dawn? Tell me.
It's good with you, it's bad without.
My head and shoulders are bearing the lash.
The lash.
Sunshine of mine - look at me,
my palm has turned to a fist.
And if you have the powder - give me a flame.
That's it.