When we were young We wanted to die But the sound of a drum And the words of a child Brought a different light Now no one can tell If the winter was nice But the summer is hell The summer is hell
The ground was so hard The nights were so long But we suffered the dark And we wrote all those songs Still I was a fool I covered my ears No I would not face the last snowstorm of the year
No I would not face the last snowstorm of The year
