Leaves are floating on the river surface, some rain drops draw circles in the water. Someone is singing a song. They always sing a song for a lost love. I watch my steps, the feet of a man I can't ever be.
And suddenly, as a stroke it hits me: I'm still mourning a lost love, as the song. How many years should pass, how many beds before this pain is over?

Just lie down, close my eyes and leave everything behind. What I was, what I couldn't be. What I dreamed, my unfeasible plans. What I am, what I can't be, the life I can't live