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BlĂĽten der Babys
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
ich wundere manchmal, mich wenn es wirklich zutreffend ist
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
schön
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
ich schleuderte meine Seele zur Luft wie einem Falkefliegen
vor er war viele und viel einem Jahr

 



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