Nostalgie

I would rather be a child again.
I could kiss you.
Hidden behind the green pines.
Nothing in my mind
The wind in my hair
The taste of strawberries on my lips.

I miss the smell of the pines.
I've lost my pink dresses.
Aswell as the sand in my shoes
I only know cigarettes and cold mornings
Where are all sunshines gone.
I seem to be walking on streets
I have already walked in.