They wake up at the time of the shepherd
To get up at teatime
And go out at the time of nothing more
The little ones of the early morning
They have arrogance
Girls with breasts
They have this assurance
Men you can guess
That Dad was lucky
The little ones of the early morning
And it dances with your eyes in your breasts
They're whitewashing their nights
Washing melancholy
Who washes without getting your hands dirty
The little ones of the early morning
They tell each other at midnight
Poems, which they have not read
The novels they didn't write
Loves, which they have not lived
Truths, which serve no purpose
The little ones of the early morning
Love rips their liver
It was, it was, so well
It was you wouldn't understand
The little ones of the early morning
They're taking the last whiskey
They take, the last good word
They're back, the last whiskey
They take, the last tango
They take, the last sorrow
The little ones of the early morning
And that crying eyes in the breasts
The little ones of the early morning