Cold and alone in the vinyard he lies
Stained and all broken the nightingale dies
Looking from your window
I can see the snow
Freezing cold
Grinding to a halt
On stonecold gravel
Freeze alone
Turning away from the wasted hours
Turning away from the wasted years.
Stained and all broken the nightingale dies
Looking from your window
I can see the snow
Freezing cold
Grinding to a halt
On stonecold gravel
Freeze alone
Turning away from the wasted hours
Turning away from the wasted years.