?summer's gone and shot himself
and we're stranded in the wake

so now the leaves are off the trees
and the fields lose their golden promise

one by the one the sparrows fly
off to evergreens

but im tied down in rural county
by bonds not unkindly

no more good men left in these parts
they're off seeking a star

the forlorn left to tend dying embers
poor gypsies misfits sad clowns

winters coming so they say
bramble, thistles frost and snow

will the lake freeze over
will our hearts grow cold

bleak at its bleakest,
can hope survive

but we were made for higher winds and awesome storms
we were made for open skies
bring winter, that unrelenting jezebel
raise the winds of assyrian ire

cos today we soar, we fly
today we come alive