Alone

Where the sun kisses the grass,

Where the first snowflake touches the ground,

Where the first line of a noble poem,

I'll find you there.

The wind, which you always hate,

The one makes you wear a glove,

The one makes your cheeks glow,

Now I'm walking through the road.

The redness in your beautiful eyes,

Always told discographic lies,

With the things that separated us,

I'm walking through the road, alone.