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Solitude, what a lame excuse,
you forget as the wind blows.
Do not cry over same old news,
do not tell what the skin knows.
So you fade away like a summer day.
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells,
all those days gone in vain.
Solitude, solitude, my friend.
Lay me down in the summer breeze
where young girls find new lovers,
wash my face with a white chemise,
leave your coat as a cover.
Nothing else to see,
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells
all those days gone in vain,
solitude, solitude, solitude,
my friend, my friend.
Christina Rosenvinge
As The Wind Blows
As The Wind Blows
Solitude, what a lame excuse,
you forget as the wind blows.
Do not cry over same old news,
do not tell what the skin knows.
So you fade away like a summer day.
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells,
all those days gone in vain.
Solitude, solitude, my friend.
Lay me down in the summer breeze
where young girls find new lovers,
wash my face with a white chemise,
leave your coat as a cover.
Nothing else to see,
Knell, no one cares but the bells
in my hands, empty shells
all those days gone in vain,
solitude, solitude, solitude,
my friend, my friend.
