Goodbye

I was so unsuspecting

with my suitcase and my thirst.

Curiosity fell fondly over my shoulders,

and winter was under my feet.

The icy air froze my lashes.

I always loved Munich most under a blanket of snow.

You said "go", and I smiled and believed in adventure.

Fearless and thrilled I set foot on the island

and homeless my heart broke without warning.

My feet slipped on the ice-free ground

and I fell on my knees

while my lungs burst with nostalgia.

I might go back there when I'm old.

And I will be soothed by the cold.

I always loved Munich most under a blanket of snow.

I might never go back,

and dream of being home under a blanket of snow

while being displaced in one city or another.

I came with a selection of songs

that now carry the imprint of the past.

I came with a book full of names

that now belong to history.

So I look out for new chords and melodies.

I search for new names to scribble into the book.

You say "come back", and my smile is cracked.

I'm trying to figure out the silence and the empty pages,

and what it is that they are doing to me.

I am writing epic letters to myself and to you.

There is still the same mind under the travel hat.

I had to move, and I don't do backwards walking.

Winter will abandon us,

it always does.

And under the blanket of snow

lie a million things and sentiments

that grow like weeds when they catch the first sunshine of spring.

I always loved Munich most under a blanket of snow.

I look up into the British sky

and I smell snow.

My heart plays tricks on my senses.

I might go back there and pay a visit

but with the British seasons in my pocket

the snow of my home will never feel the same again.

I was so smart then, in my adventurer's gown.

I felt so fortunate that I didn't look back when I waved and left.

In January I said farewell, today I mean good-bye and see you soon.

I always loved Munich most under a blanket of snow.

But deep down I prefer the sun.