Broken Bottle-Glass Sidewalks Songtext
von Peter Grudzien

The broken bottle-glass sidewalks
They glisten in the sun
On a sunny Sunday morning
It seems I′m the forgotten one
Oh Lord, what am I doing
In this strange and distant town?
If I had the money
I'd be flying home


The whispers of the people
That pass me once or twice
Are propelled by the wind
But are animated and precise
Some are going uptown
Some are going down
If I had the money
I′d be flying home

I hear a silver bird
Suspended overhead
It's going far beyond
Where these bottle sidewalks end
I am going backwards
Where there is no sound
If I had the money
I'd be flying home