The wet spring sun
burns my changeling heart
whether I like it or not
the ground is turning
And whats been has been
And though it will be there frozen
What hasn’t been is bright and unchosen
Against my will I’ll be thrown
The wet spring sun
burns my changeling heart
whether I like it or not
the ground is turning
And whats been has been
And though it will be there frozen
What hasn’t been is bright and unchosen
Against my will I’ll be thrown