The Drought

(альбом: Thistled Spring - 2010)

Unruly type of sun
Willing to spare no one
From the plains up to the peaks
This heat's stealing faith from the weak

Amidst the burning breeze
From the ground up through the trees
I hear the birds complain
About the lack of the rain

And it's not the same life
Here the morning's like a knife
And the river's been bone dry
Where the day is not fond of light

Unruly til the night
Shades [?]
From the plains up to the peaks
This heat's stealing faith from the weak

Amidst the burning breeze
From the ground up through the trees
I hear the birds complain
About the lack of the rain

It's bearing down on me
No clouds in the sky
I hear the pines crack and cry:
"There's no reason to try"

And it's not the same life
Here the morning's like a knife
And the river's been bone dry
Where the day is not fond of light

It's bearing down on me
No clouds in the sky
I hear the pines crack and cry:
"There's no reason to try"