One day when I’m withered and old
After the trees fall bare and the air turns cold
I’ll look at the peaks all around
The snow on the ground muffling sound
And wince at what could have been
Had I not chosen peace
Had I not looked within
One day when I’m withered and old
After the trees fall bare and the air turns cold
I’ll look at the peaks all around
The snow on the ground muffling sound
And wince at what could have been
Had I not chosen peace
Had I not looked within
Leave a comment