Colourful boxes against our graveTicket in hand, we have travelled a long wayAnd I have not seen myself in several daysAnd man, it feels good not to thinkThe sea, the sand, the airThe salt in your hairI’m not going anywhereAnywhere Mezarımızda renkli kutular var Elimizde bilet, uzun bir yolculuk yaptıkVe kendimi birkaç gündür görmedimVe adamım,