Fingertips are dancing over clouds and raindrops swimming in the lake,
the wind is gently caressing your cheek and sunrays are singing a song,
a squirrel is hiding beneath the rainbow and trees are reaching for those lilies –
I only sit on the train, drive the world apart and together.
Never now and always I hold my breath and wonder if I’ll ever manage
(I’m a painter without colours, a musician with amnesia,
a voiceless singer, a runner in a wheelchair).
Thousands of images of you and all I get out are clichés not worth the paper:
some days it makes me wonder if I love you at all but
I always think of painting pictures and composing songs when I am.
Hm dat do deet gudd un engem verschifften groen Muergen wéi haut!
:))