The mild memory of rolling grasslands, the fine...
Water so cool and calm...

She is crippled, scarred and bruised
On the inside of her young broken heart...

On the beginning of that September day
Our flag was wailing in the wind...

When I first met her
A special feeling came to me...

Across the horrid creek of diminished and hidden...
A world that is so dismal and isolated...

I have given my heart and soul away
So it can be broken into small remains...

At times, I know the words to say thanks for what...
But they end up flying away like a bird that is...

Fireflies in the orchard
Fireflies in the heart...

Rain softly falling
Gust blowing with a Vengeance...