Lyrics

A week of Sundays
To see Nirvana
A toll is due my darling Sara
The light is red yourself is cold
You breathe a scent nineteen 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 on my , flowers on my blood
A year of war to steel the summer
The coals are raked with silent warnings
The light is red yourself is cold
You breathe a scent nineteen years old
Flowers make you feel good
Where I never could
Flowers in my flowers in my blood
Flowers flowers flowers
In my blood