Texty: And Also The Trees. The Suffering Of The Stream.

There is a place where she would always be
Where the blossom snows between the cankered trees
Holding his sour breath
He knows she's there
Watching the torrent as it flows
Watching her soft white dress, it flows
In the innocent breezes
Smoothing the stones
Watching her cold white dress, it floats
He could see his love like a long forgotten dream
He could see his love veiled beneath the stream
He could see his love grow pallid and suffer as he weeps
His tears fall around her in oil-rainbow streaks

He could see his own reflection cloud the stones
There is a place where she will always be
Where the blossom floats above her through the reeds
Where cling the willow roots
His fingers reach
Searching for her lost arms to seize
Watching her soft white dress, it flows
In the innocent breezes
Smoothing the stones
Watching her cold white dress, it floats