The StormThe water rushesAnd the blade that cuts it diesFrom mutual death. The HurricaneThe new growls break earsBecause only one sound grewLike a flower high. The ColdFall, spring, summer, fallWithout the winter, nothingAs long as clocks turn
The StormThe water rushesAnd the blade that cuts it diesFrom mutual death. The HurricaneThe new growls break earsBecause only one sound grewLike a flower high. The ColdFall, spring, summer, fallWithout the winter, nothingAs long as clocks turn
Just Buckle Down 