| You are the season I will not find again
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| Your weather is the reason I am wandering
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| And I’m just a feeling in the air you onced loved
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| Daughter of a mother nature’s son
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| And you won’t find me in the rains that come
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| That soaked the roots of where I sat from
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| Thinking back
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| Blossoms on my fine plum tree
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| Always seem to flower too early
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| And it wasn’t just the words but the ways our bodies spoke
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| And the way you held my hands, the way you tied me up in ropes
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| And you said you’d never leave it you needed me the most
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| And it all disappeared with such a fleetfoot ghost
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| And we ate until we were empty
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| Not fattened by our century
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| And when I noticed we were still hungry
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| We were consumed by our tragedy
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| Now I feel the winds blowing colder
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| But I am ready to get older
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| And I don’t expect to see you anytime soon
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| But if you hear this know that I’ve been thinking of you
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| And if you find yourself again in a true love’s nest
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| And you feel that same sweet holiness
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| You care for her and you care for yourself
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| Learn to grow it in the light and in the darkness |