I saw a comet flying in the sky. I wanted to sing to it, but it disappeared. Disappeared like a rope in a shirt by the forest. I only had a few yellow pennies left. I hid the pennies in the mud under the oak. When it arrives next time, we won't be here anymore. We won't be here anymore, oh, the muddy wave. I saw a comet flying in the sky. I wanted to sing to it. About water, about grass, about forest. About death, which you can't face. About love, about betrayal, about the world. And about all the people, who once lived on this planet. On a starry track, wagons are honking. Mr. Kepler wrote the laws of the sky. He searched and found in the starry triangles. The secret, which we now carry on our hips. The great and eternal mystery of nature. That only from man, man is born. That the root connects with the branch in the tree. The blood of our hopes is floating in space. I saw a comet, it was like a relief. Under the hand of an artist, who is no longer alive. I splashed into the sky, I wanted to touch it. Vastness dragged me all the way down. Like David of white marble. I stood and looked, I looked up. When it comes next time, oh, it's a waste of time. We won't be here anymore, but others will. About water, about grass, about forest. About death, which you can't face. About love, about betrayal, about the world. It will be a song about us and the comet. Thank you.