When the grave will have bushes
I will finish up business.
I will walk away bold
And with the bushes will grow old.

And will tell you all the regrets-
The biggest lies I told to myself-
That I don’t love you -
And walked away...


I was afraid my love might hurt
So I became a gypsy in the desert,
But I will come round bold
And by your side, with regrets, I will grow old.