The time has come for giving up
|
I have lost
|
I wanted once to become what
|
I cannot
|
|
Why come to me so full of dreams?
|
Well, go on
|
With feathered keys you're mocking me
|
I am locked
|
|
It's easier to pine
|
To pine
|
|
I can feel it
|
Through the fields of graves
|
A beating heart
|
While
|
Rolling hills are
|
Roaming through my veins
|
And open arms
|
And all is full of smoke
|
|
Ah pining¡¦
|
|
The words you speak
|
Stir things in me that I thought
|
Were gone
|
Their faint white heat
|
Melts centuries
|
Deep in
|
Frost
|
|
I can feel it
|
Through the fields of graves
|
A beating heart
|
While
|
Rolling hills are
|
Roaming through my veins
|
And open arms
|
And all is full of
|
Hope
|
|
Ah pining¡¦
|
|
-----------------
|
Pinesong
|
| A Fine Frenzy |
