This is darkness, this is rain,
the unfolding everlasting pain
of the lover
and I suffer
hoping in vain,
trading my love for money,
how easily one can become insane.
Ho... Ho... Ho...
Don’t go to Bali my friend.
Even if the whales whistle you the way,
even if the dolphins dance for you to stay,
This is the last week
I see my reflection on your morning eyes.
The last time
I draw hope from the vibrations of your voice.
My love is like the morning mist
that meanders in the sea.
Allow me my vices.
I’m no saint and I ain’t no angel
and many of my friends live in hell,
so I might as well pay them a visit.
And thus I don’t know
if I should write to you or cry.
Cause when my sorrow drains,
my final tear is shed,
Have I told you about my cries?
True love never dies.
If you ever felt it, there is no disguise.
Have I told you about my sighs?