Do you speak of the same kind of luck?
You're craving for something far in the past
And you're looking at me.
You're kindness,
You're silent cordiality.
You're fighting against your time.
You're smiling at your destiny,
Leaning close to it,
Without any distress and defense.
You're enchantment takes all the old shadows with it
And you're keeping your word.
Before the morning sun abducts you, before this moment breaks,
Sign with white ink.
Let small prints be overseen,
You shall not leave.
You speak, when you don't talk,
When you prorogue.
And your way seems to be far.
Walking silently away in past,
Right after your reason and purpose.
Before the morning sun abducts you, before this moment breaks,
Sign with white ink.
Let small prints be overseen,
You shall not leave.
You dovetail, what has been, in an artful manner.
You're opponents are scattered and distraught.
Carefully you're attending your own soulstalking.
Here does your reality count.
Here does no reality count.
You're talking about the same kind of luck.
Longing back for more and you're looking at me.
I close my eyes to watch with you,
To think of you, to understand you.
Before the morning sun abducts you,
Let us dance your dance.
Let us go your path,
Both of us together and reconciled.
Sign with white ink, for this whiff of eternalness.
For your eternalness.
Writer(s): Herbert Gronemeyer, Michael Ebert
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