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When I think that I'm on my way,
the darkest clouds come for me,
calmly waiting for disaster.
I think of all the seasons how the
hardest time is yet to come.

In my head, I was always 18,
I thought, I knew, how to live my life.

But now she's crying in my arms,
saying summer ends flowers fade,
but there is nothing I can do.

Summer's end here it comes,
don't try to run cause
there's no running from it.

Father's death lures around the corner.
The slow decline of the family tree.
They say my pain will make me stronger,
the youth with skull is on the rise.

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