I pack my bags and abandon it.
Only in the fridge the light is still turned on.
Nobody should see me when I leave.
I give away the cat and
I slip off up into the nice concrete, into the city
and the night and the fog.
I slip off.
I slip off.
I've never settled down anywhere, because it doesn't let go of me,
being somewhere else at home.
I've never settled down anywhere, because it doesn't let go of me,
being somewhere else at home.
Whether I move or escape, I don't care.
Whether I move or escape, I don't care.
Whether I move or escape, I don't care.
I don't care, I'm sorry.
Above burned land,
not even with anger anymore,
I raise the hand
out of the fist: "Take care!"
Do it better than me.
And hold your promises.
And hold the ones who love you and please hold me.
Please hold me, please hold me.
I've never settled down anywhere, because it doesn't let go of me,
being somewhere else at home.
I've never settled down anywhere, because it doesn't let go of me,
being somewhere else at home.
And I go to the station,
peruse the railway schedule,
trains to the south in which I never get on.
And as for you, you will be somewhere else at home.