like the wind,
and wind has not a home,
neither can your love be housed (2)
 
you spend your afternoons,
carving my name on the bark of trees,
and my heart hides tears and wounds,(2)
 
(first and second paragraph again)
 
i wish i could change my days,
write my destiny by my own hands,
and make my own [bad word] [bad word] (2)

i wish i could sit by a creek,
and round up my stories,
tell them to the wind,
 
just yesterday i picked u a flower from every field,
and for u i remained virgin,
waiting for tomorrow,
when tomorrow brings nothing,

some people are jealous,
not a word they say,
not a picture they appear in,
there broken wings,
are taken by the wind...

(paragraph 1 and 2 repeated 2 times with variation)