As the wind blows
Cristina Rosenvinge

Solitude, what a lame excuse,
you forget as the wind blows.
Do not cry over same old news,
do not tell what the skin knows.
So you fade away
Like a summer day.
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells,
all those days gone in vain
Solitude, solitude, my friend.
Lay me down in the summer breeze
where young girls find new lovers,
wash my face with a white chemise,
leave your coat as a cover.
Nothing else to see, ‘cause isn’t my (???)
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells,
all those days gone in vain
solitude, solitude, solitude
my friend
my friend.