For not so long shall i rise
nor of fact be granted an amnesty
for the pains of the heart never lies
that the desperate dove now mourns of honesty
except she, to her unforgiving rise
shall the ashes of the burning love be
early to bed.
I set in peace where my heart lies
for i can't stand all this freedom
where her reasons dwell.
I may wish this season to pass, but
my love is out of seasons to tell.
How my soul be still?
if she's all i ever wanted.
