It almost never came, there was the night passing
with its still morning dew. The long heated weary,
and humid dry days.
A shower hope would come break the spelt. Few
moments to spear on these summer days when the
august wind almost never, never came.
August wind, where are you? The cruel heat as
my life on a spin. Out of control right under my
nose. I must hope against hope, when the august
wind almost never came.
with its still morning dew. The long heated weary,
and humid dry days.
A shower hope would come break the spelt. Few
moments to spear on these summer days when the
august wind almost never, never came.
August wind, where are you? The cruel heat as
my life on a spin. Out of control right under my
nose. I must hope against hope, when the august
wind almost never came.
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