Every day I wade through muddy waters deep.
Without this wanting, will I soon be free?
It's hard to know,
harder not to know.
And, if you lose yourself to love just once more,
is the servant of your vision at the door?
He's brought shadows for your flowers….
In the absence of fear,
beauty will appear,
though this beauty is not mine.
It's hard to love,
harder not to love,
everything that's ever come before,
as the universe exhales just once more,
in time for recovery.
It's always winter inside every heart of gold;
for summer hearts are just longing for the cold.
Heat for the young,
winter for the old,
soul, whose grown tired of his skin,
who generates the warmth to rise again.
And, if you lose yourself to love just once more,
will the servant of your vision kick down the door,
and bring shadows for your flowers?
