Staring at the family photo album
This one; this one is almost empty
But contains most of the memories
That were best forgotten
Because
Tears don't make good pictures
Tears
Don't make good pictures
And I'm still crying so
Don't take any pictures

The family that prays together
tears itself apart
The young boy in the corner cries himself to sleep
Each one turns round in question
Receiving no reponse

Another come my love
sweet love and much disorder
Shall I be a pram-pusher myself?
And even though I know I should be dead already
The dancing night itself is not through.

Here stands the family.