| Lyrics: | (K.J.Garside C.Gray)
There is an anger comes off this girl,
That she can't find an
origin,
The things I plant won't grow,
Yet the wild weeds flower in wind and
snow.
Nothing to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose.
When will
my season come,
Was I born of infertile soil,
Is my seed without song,
Can I not see the
woods for these forests in my head,
Can I not see the sunlight as I play dead?
Nothing
to be nothing to prove,
Nowhere to go nothing to lose. |
