There comes the wind, two thousand thirteen
Is the date, a year of love and wrath,
Followed by an army of clouds, tons
Of memories marching through my brain,
Carrying the weight of bonds that were released,
Carrying the tears of mothers, mourning
Over the graves of sons and fathers,
Vaporized illusions, buried hopes,
Burnt up lands, souls fading into smoke,
Looking through the window of the train,
Caring none for being not cared for,
Leaving behind the past, escaping
The future, the storm is catching up,
Raindrops connecting me to the world.
Is the date, a year of love and wrath,
Followed by an army of clouds, tons
Of memories marching through my brain,
Carrying the weight of bonds that were released,
Carrying the tears of mothers, mourning
Over the graves of sons and fathers,
Vaporized illusions, buried hopes,
Burnt up lands, souls fading into smoke,
Looking through the window of the train,
Caring none for being not cared for,
Leaving behind the past, escaping
The future, the storm is catching up,
Raindrops connecting me to the world.