A long walk home, riddled with regret.

Uncommonly comfortable,
but still I believe that in time
I'll see just whats been weighing down on me.

An unearthy void, collapsed, exposing what was trapped,
to release this serendipitous dissent.

The smell of smoke, the evening sky was bruised.
Belated conversation, saturate anticipation
for the answers that simply wont come,
but not I, I wont ask. Forget my
place amongst the grass.
The leaves and the trees remember me
and in my naivety it might be seen;
the pale has leaks,
and even if you put all your water into it,
you end up with nothing left to drink.
The well has gone dry and I with it.

Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.

We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing.

Sing softly, bring it to the lake,
Sing softly, bring it to the lake,
Sing softly, bring it to the lake,
Sing softly, bring it to the lake.

Sing softly, sing it to the lake,
Sing softly, sing it to the lake,
Sing softly, bring it to the lake
Sing softly, sing it to the lake,
Sing softly, bring it to the lake.