| One day before the rain only for a moment the earth inhales again
|
| It seems like time stood still before the wind creeping to the trees upon the
|
| hill
|
| And a blind man finds a way between the beauty and decay
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| Over roses in the dust, behind doors are made to rust
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| Lies a field of a thousand nails beneath cemetery vales
|
| And one day before the rain
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| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| And one day before the rain
|
| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields
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| The scent of sweet perfume is a lair of pale illusions with a tainted Paris tune
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| The dark an lonely side binds this liquid marriage for shadows and the light
|
| Somewhere by the fireside lies a man, eyes open wide
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| Flee on the effect of plants, he translates and understands
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| For the hidden side to see in this secret poetry
|
| And one day before the rain
|
| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| And one day before the rain
|
| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields
|
| And one day before the rain
|
| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| And one day before the rain
|
| He is searching there again
|
| Where no one ever meets
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields
|
| On the Scarlet Flower Fields |