verse
Black flies on the windowsill
That we are, that we are, that we are to know
Winter stole summer's thrill
And the river's cracked and cold
See, the sky is no man's land
Hope here needs a humble hand
Not a fox found in your place
verse
Black flies on the windowsill
That we are, that we are, that we are to hold
Comfort came against my will
And every story must grow old
Still I'll be a traveller
With that fool found in your place
verse
And I don't wanna beg your pardon
And I don't wanna ask you why
But if I was to go my own way
Would I have to pass you by?
And I don't wanna beg your pardon
And I don't wanna ask you why
But if I was to go my own way
Would I have to pass you by?