Song from the Highest Tower

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

I have waited so long
That at length I forget
And leave unto heaven
My fear and regret
A sick thirst
Darkens my veins

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

So the green field, to oblivion falls, overgrown, flowering
With incense and weeds and the cruel noise of dirty flies

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

I loved the desert, burnt orchards
Tired old shops, warm drinks
I dragged myself through stinking alleys
And with my eyes closed
I offered myself to the Sun
The God of fire