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He was my North, my South, my East my West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever.
I was wrong.

You can call me through the rain
But if love is one-sided it slowly turns into pain

You can call me through the snow
It sounds too sweet, my dear,
It sounds for me like a show

Hey, the wind still blows
Hey, too much reality shows

But when we’re safe in glory,
There’s no time for cries and sorries
I will be there, no lying,
Though my singing bird is dying

Hey, the wind still blows
Hey, too much reality shows

They say red rose is a faith
I say – life’s too short to wait

What else can I say, I don’t know
But I know, but I know, but I know
Our river of love stops to flow

And when we’re safe in glory,
There’s no time for cries and sorries
I will be there, no lying,
Though my singing bird is dying

Hey, the wind still blows
Hey, too much reality shows