I only turned to see
What hand had set this inner field alight
Against the flame I see
The outline of a man against a night
Take back your sympathy
I do not need to drink that bitter stuff
Id rather break the thread
That bound us close, and say we called a bluff
A casual match
In a very dry field
What could be
The seasons yield?
My eyes have gone to coal
Its nothing I would be concerned about
Observe the moment
When the heat of love becomes the chill of doubt
A casual match
In a very dry field
Fire and ash
Is the seasons yield
We look for a sign
But it is not revealed
Fire and ash is the
Seasons yield
|
