No season holds this weather.
Dark sullen specters
or the brightest of days?
The question is not whether
I am to study to be a rector
and be the devout: the one who prays,
For us all.
Don’t pray for me, don’t impose yet another toll.
Don’t say to me, which way I gotta be.
Wont wait.
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
All seasons hold the weather.
All things are bound together.
Another caught-up sinner sings
about all the misery that love brings.
What reason is there ever?
Dark sullen specters
or the brightest of days?
The question is not whether
I am to study to be a rector
and be the devout: the one who prays,
For us all.
Don’t pray for me, don’t impose yet another toll.
Don’t say to me, which way I gotta be.
Wont wait.
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
All seasons hold the weather.
All things are bound together.
Another caught-up sinner sings
about all the misery that love brings.
What reason is there ever?
