The storms of life like comets come,
They bring with them the blues
They sting you with their mysteries
the scars they leave are clues
But when a whirlwind took my love
I could not turn the page.
My brittle heart had been laid bare,
to heaven fisted rage
Proverbial seasons - I'm aware, I'm aware.
But death is a season of despair, deep despair.
With the comet came the rains
The storm intensified.
With the rain came memories
brought tears to my tired eyes.
When that angel took my love,
I begged him for relief.
He said that I must travel first
to places dark and deep.
Grief has its stages - yes I know, yes I know
But death just enrages and it grows, and it grows.
The sky will once again be free
The signs will fade from view.
But I'll look to the heavens
In hopes that I'll see you.
Yes I'll look to the heavens
In hopes that I see you.