.Ich bin der Nacht gewogen
Den Feuerkreis gezogen
In weiÃen 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 Stür.
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