|
Wide fields ahead |
|
I feel the sun again |
|
Though there is no joy |
|
Coming over me |
|
The shadows cover up |
|
What darkness couldn't see |
|
A million unknown strangers |
|
Have died but not for me |
|
Only the good ones die in summer |
|
Softly, as does no other |
|
Will they reach the perfect silence? |
|
Or roaming 'round a thousand miles? |
|
You will know... |
|
When you die in summer. |
|
Straight ahead I make my way |
|
Through the madness in a day |
|
I gather all my sorrow |
|
With the sun beating down aside |
|
The shadows cover up |
|
What darkness would never be |
|
Slightly groping hands |
|
Reaching out for me |
|
Only the good ones die in summer |
|
Softly, as does no other |
|
Will they reach the perfect silence? |
|
Or roaming 'round a thousand miles? |
|
You will know... |
|
When you die in summer. |
|
In the shadow of a dying tree |
|
I find myself |
|
Waiting for silence |
|
Desperation is my friend |
|
Only the good ones die in summer |
|
Softly, as does no other |
|
Will I reach the perfect silence? |
|
Or roaming 'round a thousand miles? |
|
I would know... |
|
If I died in summer |
