Sonnet 3 (The Cold Is Here) Letra

The chest pressed tightly, as though in a vise

The birds have flown away to warmer climes
The mammals in their caves to hibernate
The summer seems a lost and gentle time
When grass grew up against the swinging gate

The children's cheeks have turned a rosy red
The wealthy are beside their fires, warm
And then there's he who is without a bed
In which to lay and ride the raging storm

And in the graveyard, cold old bones do lie
And far above, the stars light up the sky