Слова:
Piano Magic Writers Without Homes

: I was a postal worker from May until July I left because of allergies - the letters made me cry 8am on Fridays, 6am the rest Postal for the two months

: (Instrumental)

heart and snow on my pills The season is long and this season kills Don't you ever think that you might love me? The season is long and I'm coming home

: (Instrumental)

I loved you when you loved me and then we were done There's a silence on the railway There's a bad curse on the land And this season writes a rainstorm

: He lived a boy's life He loved his "Camp Mohawk" on Viele`s Creek And he loved to work on problems, drifting in his canoe Lightning days He hated formalities

Music won't save you from anything but silence Not from heartbreak, not from violence

There are more people alive now than have ever lived I read that somewhere and instantly thought it impossible but if it were to be true I wonder that

It's the same dream that lasts all night but I can only keep this It's Halloween and I'm chasing you round the other kids On a moonlit lawn in a skull