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schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
Glasbläser der Zeit
Melancholie, Blau war sie
von Song und Traum für überhaupt gegangen
lassen Sie uns Pity die, denen besser seien Sie weg von, als wir sind
meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
Kurzschluß und süsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
ich weiß nicht wo

 



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