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ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
ich weiĂź nicht wo
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
dieses ist der Song von Jugend
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
Massentravails
entlang einem River-side
stern kalter Mann
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
warum dann, MuĂź wir? sieht
tat Sie sehen ĂĽberhaupt ein Krokodil
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze

 



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