II: Summer If it weren't to be now, tell me when it was going to be? You build your creed and make believe you better stay right here But when it comes down to the thing, you are older than you imagine And if it doesn't make things happen now, perhaps it's your last chance It's too late. Too late
III: Autumn The winds are howling on my blue hands - I think I couldn't hear the starting gun My senses tangled to the core - I stand to a few dreams waiting for more
IV: Winter Now you're close to see an end and feel the story must be told But in the end we see the story has just begun
