The crane at the bottom of the sea
Tall buildings… they know nothing but eating light.
Tomorrow the sun won’t come to the studio visit.
It is the moment of the day when yellow takes over everything
And touching a brick burns our hands
Yet they aren’t afraid of laying some more.
Crying out for dust
That man’s hammer is a light thief
But it isn’t his fault and I forgive him.
Sweat doesn’t count under the great bright sun
Trembling in the distant yellow are grey breadsticks.
We all believe in the returning sun
A marble statue in a square filled with young people.
We step into a room where we can touch each other
As the sun’s studio visit will enter through the window.
We will drown in the light.
It would be worth laying on the ground
While the distant city wakes up in the sun.
People come out and, distant, they will look at each other in the eye.
We will be touched.
The greatest dream is to laze around peacefully
The city begins with the two of us.
The crab chair