|
Where's the summer? Where's the sun? |
|
Mute the violence, mute the drums |
|
Up from Highland, down to Plum |
|
Here November hopes were high |
|
You said you would and so did I |
|
You climbed the stairs and waved goodbye |
|
And down below the rainy street |
|
The drawl of car wheels on autumn leaves |
|
I'm full of doubt, still I believe |
|
'Cause if you're lucky there comes a bloom |
|
That folds the night and fills your room |
|
Your victory waltz, your never too soon |
|
Gone, gone |
|
Gone, gone, gone |
|
Should we return what we became? |
|
To be so fearless, to be so brave? |
|
The loss in loss has never changed |
|
Entire lives have gone oppressed |
|
And this is surely safe to guess |
|
The ghost of living is worse than death |
|
And down below the lonely street |
|
And far from there the silver sea |
|
And further still you from me |
|
Gone, gone |
|
Gone, gone, gone |
|
Gone, gone |
|
Gone, gone, gone |