They hold hands
And walk in silence
In those faded towns
which are rocked by drizzle
Making no sound but their footsteps
Step by muted step
They walk in silence
The Hopeless
They have burned their wings
They have lost their branches
So shipwrecked
That death seems indifferent
They’re done with love
They have woken up
They walk in silence
The hopeless
And I know their road
From having walked it
More than a hundred times already
A hundred times more than halfway
Less old or more bruised
They’re going to reach its end
And leave in silence
The hopeless
And underneath the bridge
The water is soft and deep
Here is the good hostess
Here is the end of the world
They weep their names
Like newlyweds
They melt away into silence
The hopeless
Let the one stand up
Who throws the stone at them
They don't know of love
The verb "to love oneself"
On the bridge there is nothing left
But a light mist
They are forgotten in silence
The ones who once hoped
They walk without a sound, down forgotten streets. And I know the road they’re on, I have walked it a hundred times or more. They cry to us for help, they cry without a sound. Let the one stand up, who throws the stone at them; he knows the verb to love, but he’ll never know how to love.