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.