Maybe we will never have blonde hair,
but we don’t seem to care.
Don’t blow out the campfire yet,
stare at the stars,
so they show us about the beauty;
Once in our past, it was a secret.
Grab that brand new vinyl record
and keep singing until the sound stops and the needle starts murmuring.
We dance on the beach with salt into our mouths.
we laugh and shout,
we jump like never before.
And at the approach of the evening,
we won’t be leaving,
because we stare at the redness from the sunset;
she´s creating merciful looks onto our faces.
And we sing when the moon replaces the sun,
we know we are going to live forever in this fun.
maybe we will never have blonde hair,
but we never seem to care.
And we don’t blow out the campfire yet,
because we are staring at the stars…