the reprise

the tides of time that glide
over the sea of love
leave no trace in history
just a scent of sorry death
in the air of life

we dont pray for the rain again
high tides of pain drown yesterday
only a summer
of warm winds and orchids
will let us breath.

and we will stand
against the wind
and kill each other with spears of words
till what remains on the sorry earth
is only the scent of death

and the gods above
will cry for us
and for the lives that could have been
and lonely children will be born again
in the warm winds of summer.