What comes forth through Springtime
Is sweeter than before
Cut swiftly through
Rose and weed patch
Beneath the vine and thorn
Winter's aftertaste is bitter
The cold shakes you to the bone
Ghosts roam the roads of
Tired slaves Shackled
Their hearts are done for
In Summer when the heat is upon us
And our secret is hard to tell
Remember words we whisper
Torches the heat of Hell
Sweet devil deliver upon me
The answer with the Fall
When leaves turn brown
And skies are gray
I've seen my dying days.
