The field and rusty gate
squeakes in my dream
It awakens me, remembers me
that you once passed through it
The appricot sadly folds itself in the garden
It hasn't got anyone to grow for
Holland is getting colder
A lot of doors, not a single gate
Refren
My house is on sale
People here don't recognize me
My heart says: give everything
this is not your birthplace
Memories of you reappear
your tear finds me
say to me 'come' and nothing more
Bring me back to my birthplace
Something beautiful is happening over here
Tomorrow doesn't even last till noon
I feel you on my shoulder
As usual you're kissing me, but only in my dream
'Carlija' wind blows from the south (I don't know what Carlija means..)
and some kind of pain is transferred into me
Holland is getting colder
A lot of doors, not a single gate