.Ich bin der Nacht gewogen
Den Feuerkreis geszogen
In weissen Räumen wohnt
Ganz still fast seelenlos
Die Fracht der Tagtraumanten
Doch Träumen fällt so schwer>So muss zum Zweck des Seins
Eine Traummaschine her>
Wo seid Ihr?
Wo seid Ihr?
Wo rote Stürme gehe.
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