Coming of Age Lyrics

PRE-CHORUS:

The curls, Mother:

They get more troubled each day.

V1:

Prayer as a melody

of the ever-aching heart:

escapes into infinite

pastures of the gods.

PRE-CHORUS:

The curls, Mother:

They get more troubled each day.

CHORUS:

The black quietly fades

into stranger shades

of grey.

SPOKEN WORD:

Crumbling you, held in me:

My abyss, a whirlpool cradle…

Carried your absence more wearily,

Than the presence of

your trials.

OUTRO:

The throes of longing were always,

tugging.

The Glory of White,

as shining crystals in the summer sun;

Whoever said it’d ever be easy!?

Whoever did, a fool in vain was one!