I'm sorry mom, but I have to go
For a few months, not to return
Sad trope, I know
I don't know anything

On the high seas there is a forest
After the desert a storm
Where I go I don't know
I don't know anything anymore

Drowning on dry land
Or walking over water
But it's not my choice
I'm sorry mom, but I have to go
Until the land becomes the sea, mmh

(Eh, eh-eh, eh-eh)
(Eh)
(Eh, eh-eh, eh-eh)
(Eh)

Like a gypsy, but a bit African
Deep South America to Milan
Like the rain I will pass
I become nothing

Drowning on dry land
Or walking over water
No, it's not my choice
I'm sorry mom, but I have to go
Until the land becomes the sea

(Eh, eh-eh, eh-eh)
(Eh, eh-eh, eh-eh)
(Eh, eh-eh, eh-eh)

There is no more wind, there is no more fate
By now I'm not even afraid of death

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