(Are you) elderly?
The frogs are sitting in the wind
When we get wise at heart thinks he
What is loss but a falling leave?
Only memory makes history, that of pain, for sure, it will
One to/Want to tell, where to my time?
Where to, if not away?
Thus vanity is washed away
Value next to me here on the ground
Sofacoloured faces dont make sound
Time is such a different thing
So Meet me then where your line grows
While i think my hair turns grey
And while somebody is counting stars
The frogs sit quiter still.