yes, going running into the middle of a snowy white field,
in the middle of the night
in the middle of falling frozen tears
yield by all the memories
white flakes, chasing thoughts around our heads
letting ourself grow hungry on the next year
And if the memories bury us, our curiosity digs a tunnel
thru this strawberry flavored night
to meet us in the middle, the middle of the field

But my head ist getting tired, it won´t snow this night
it´s alright, it´s a crazy world

- no waste of time