In the Winter

Michael Crimson
  1. In the Winter -:-- / 5:36


In the winter I lay sleepless in my bed
With a picture of her beauty in my head
Her perfection was like Athens’s ancient art
She was singing for the seashells at the bottom of my heart

In the springtime when we walked in paradise
The old serpent gave my heart a sad surprise
When I asked her if the words he spoke were true
She did answer, “You just proved that there’s no hope for me and you”

In the summer when I stumbled through the heat
I saw Satan on the corner of the street
He did ask me if my life had turned out well
I ignored him and continued to endure my living hell

Now in autumn time, I wither like the grass
I’m decaying at the bottom of my glass
With the picture of her beauty in my head
Tell me Father, how am I supposed to live when she is dead?

The grass of grief is growing
The ash of anguish blowing
The skies of sorrow crying
The fields of freedom dying
The winds of woe prevailing
The clouds of change are sailing
The hills of hope retreated
The light of life defeated