The birds have gone.
The birds will always leave with the long day light hours.
They´re all flying away, far away.
They will chirp their old songs just on the other side.
I seemed to sleep through summer,
never heard their voices.
Some won´t come back, others will stay there for ever.
Never I can change the past.
I wish I´d have listened to their mutter more clearly.
Because when they´re comming back
their songs won´t be the same.
And my song won´t be the same either.