Sweet summer nights beneath the moon.
Evening breeze blows away the tune
of endlessness' infinitude,
of emptiness' void and hollow mood.
Then she said, let's get away from it all.
Then she said that we're beginning to fall.
Then she said, the best is last of all.
Then she said, how about it now?
With nothing left to grab ahold.
Every tale has already been told.
And life grows short with every fold -
summer's youth turns to winter's old.
Then she said that everything was fine.
Then she said that she'd been gone for awhile.
Then she said, I love you so little child.
Then she said, how about it now?
Sweet summer nights I spent alone
wondering in which direction was home.
Gray tarnished gleam now turns to gold.
Something new, but something I've always known.
Then she said, let's get away from it all.
Then she said that we're beginning to fall.
Then she said, the best is last of all.
Then she said, how about it now?
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