Time to toll the evening bell
Erik maitre de chapelle
Solemn music fills the Paris sky
Listen, roses can be heard
Counterpoints and without words
A song that tells us you had laughing eyes
You bear losses and crosses, vexations
At home, alone, alone
It’s irony that brought me here
But you’re about to disappear behind your curtain of thorns divine
You spun a web, shut the door
Left the world behind once more
Surrounded by the relics of your time
Alone, alone
On your own 27 years alone
Hereupon a vagabond when you passed on, pass on
On your own 27 years alone
What have you done
You got blood from a stone
In your songs
Sounds of laughter of someone alone
All gone, come home

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