Sounds, the summer sun comes down. I can hardly see the window from here now. Here and now.
The snow, in waves you'll never know, through this ever-changing midnight. Just let it go.
Hey, on this sacred, sun-rinsed day. They'll sell our culture and they'll sell the ways, the blaming. Standing still, we'll fall. Burn this sadness from my soul, babe. I guess that's all.
Fear, and the sky begins to clear. Through this ever-changing midnight.