0:003:22
Komir
Musik: Fredy
Komposition: Fredy
Vocal: Angie & Fredy
Text: Bernd Harmsen
Musik: Fredy
Komposition: Fredy
Vocal: Angie & Fredy
Text: Bernd Harmsen
off-season
dusty windows are looking blindly
upon the empty market square
the village center's grey and dreary
somewhere lies a broken chair
an old, hunched man comes down the alley
looking cross, dragging his feet
this time of year the air is chilly
plastic bags dance in the breeze
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
the beach now belongs to seagulls
the deck chairs are all stowed away
gone are the colours of last summer
and the bustling, cheerful days
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
below the surface the next season sleeps
it will awake in time
there will be laughter when the crowds are back
and the sun will shine
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
dusty windows are looking blindly
upon the empty market square
the village center's grey and dreary
somewhere lies a broken chair
an old, hunched man comes down the alley
looking cross, dragging his feet
this time of year the air is chilly
plastic bags dance in the breeze
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
the beach now belongs to seagulls
the deck chairs are all stowed away
gone are the colours of last summer
and the bustling, cheerful days
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
below the surface the next season sleeps
it will awake in time
there will be laughter when the crowds are back
and the sun will shine
the season's closed
so are the shops
no tourists left to stroll
the temps moved on
so did the cops
you hardly find a soul
