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• Artiste: Rolf Zuckowski
• Titre: Birds Of Paradies
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Who are you? Who am I? Is it real, do we touch the sky? Nothing´s real, all disguise, said the Birds of Paradise. I´m afraid, can´t you see, tell me where do you carry me? You will soon realize, said the Birds of Paradise. Flying home, flying home to the land that you once have known, to the peace that once was true for a little girl like you. Flying home, flying home from a wold that is made of stone. Till your heart is light and free, like it once was ment to be. How can I go ahead? When my eyes are becoming wet? Saye your tears,dry your eyes Said the Birds of Paradise. But the time´s passing by say how long do we have to fly? Moon will set, sun will rise, said the Birds of Paradise. Flying home, flying home to the land that you once have known, to the peace that once was true for a little girl like you. Flying home, flying home from a wold that is made of stone. Till your heart is light and free, like it once was ment to be. Flying home, flying home from a wold that is made of stone. Till your heart is light and free, like it once was ment to be. Hera the sound, see the light, now I know that our way was right. Morning sun can make you wise, said the birds of Paradise Birds of Paradise