In Memory Of John Lennon
New York City, it´s December the eighth.
A monday evening. Santa Claus, he´s quite late.
And Christmas time always on his mind.
That shining tree full of candles so bright,
People waiting for the next holy night.
Christmas time always on my mind.
Christmas time still was on my mind.
But soon it´s different and unquiet.
And it became another night.
Around the world there was a cry:
John is dead !
It´s so bad.
He has gone,
Killed by the shots of a gun.
Oh – John is dead !
I´m so sad.
I do long
For each unwritten song.
He was a walrus, lived near Strawberry Fields.
A jealous guy, who was watching the wheels,
And who cried for his mother´s love.
Looking at all the stars above.
And there are hours in my life.
Imagine John is still alive.
But there´s no chance to turn back time.
John is dead.
I get mad.
I´m on the run.
Oh guy, what have you done.
John is dead !
I´m so sad.
I do long – long – long
For each unwritten song.