Lyrics

A week of Sundays
To see Nirvana
A Toll is due
My darling Sarah
The light is Red
Yourself is cold
You breathe a scent 19 years old
''We are such stuff as dreams are made of our little lives are rounded with sleep"
Flowers make you feel good
Where I never could
Flowers in my , flowers in my Blood
A week of war
To steal the summer
The coals are raked
With silent warnings
Tonight may disturb the dreams of birds
And leave us willing to start again