Spring Comes
Spring comes.
With clothes of winter still
Wrapped round me, I walk to the bus,
Growing wiser everyday
To a world on it's hinges.
The wind frays the nerves
And scatters my every thought
Till I misunderstood the depth
Of the worlds conflict,
I only have to look at my winter jacket
and I became melancholy,
I only have to speak the word home
And I begin to weep.
Each day wears away
the immunity of the sense,
Just like any old pair of shoes,
You can fix the tongue and heel
But when the soul gives out it's over.
With clothes of winter still
Wrapped round me, I walk to the bus,
Growing wiser everyday
To a world on it's hinges.
The wind frays the nerves
And scatters my every thought
Till I misunderstood the depth
Of the worlds conflict,
I only have to look at my winter jacket
and I became melancholy,
I only have to speak the word home
And I begin to weep.
Each day wears away
the immunity of the sense,
Just like any old pair of shoes,
You can fix the tongue and heel
But when the soul gives out it's over.
