the radio plays your favorite song
and you turn it up a little more
to clearly feel those lyrics float
round and round your reverent mood
“still haven’t found what I’m looking for”
Bono sings and you just know
it’s time to clean up a bit
but deep inside you like it so
let’s go – where’s my coat?
glad you came along to share a thought
about our petty issues in this world
though we drift quite aimlessly
it seems strange in this society
I like the way you look when you’re happy
I like to hear you talk even though you’re depressed
and I sure love that you can laugh about my jokes
when I know they are far below your high standards
I’m still a bit scared about the fact that
we have grown close like we’ve know us for a mild while too long now
but it have almost only been two great months
with the prominence of your presence in this world
I know you want someone
special in your life
and when he’s not the one
why do you try so hard?
don’t bury your head in work
when it belongs in the sky
there really is an answer for
every question in due time
(la, da, da, da, da)
(la, da, da, da, da, da, da)
hello and good bye again
I don’t even know your name
but you are already gone
so why do I keep singing on?
’cause I don’t like to be alone
and it can’t be all that wrong
but in the end I’ll admit that
life sucks just as much as we want
as we want, as we want
as we want it to…
as we want, as we want, as we want
as we want it to suck
and so it stops
before we got to fill
all those gaps
we never even saw
unfolding faith
on such fragile grounds
the faked smile
forming on your face
and the last lie
slipping off your lips
I know exactly
what you don’t say
now that you’re gone
and I’m not, so, I wonder
who is wrong
no, it feels okay
and I think it’s the way
it had to end
there’s fire in your eyes
but who would have heard the cries
so faint in the night
trying to get things right
your smile is far away
only fading shades of grey
no, I can’t leave this place
here’s where I want to stay
Die Leiden des jungen F.
Mit 15 gab es eine Phase in der mehrere Freunde meinten, sie müssten unbedingt Gitarre spielen lernen. Komische Zeit damals. Besonders für mich, weil ich so gut wie keinen Kontakt mit Instrumenten und guter Musik – wie auch immer man das definieren mag – hatte. Meine erste Gitarre war (ehrlich) ein viereckiger Eigenbau, bei der mir mein Opa geholfen hat. Dass man darauf nicht spielen konnte war klar, aber der Wille zählt ja bekanntlich. Ich glaube mein Opa hatte damals Mitleid und kaufte mir deshalb eine Männergitarre. Stahlseiten, yay!