No sway of joy, nor grasp of self,
No sway of joy, nor grasp of self,
For gratitude, our lips won't part.
When this air is ours to claim,
What will we do when spring shall start?
When this air is ours to claim.
Where'er we tread, a story sown,
Our deeds, the winds will start to play.
They'll shield their hearts a thousand times,
They'll shield their hearts a thousand times,
What of my love, come what may?
When this air is ours to claim.
No sighs of grief, no whispered plea,
No open wounds for all to see.
The trials that we endure within,
The trials that we endure within,
Where will they be, for whom to be?
When this air is ours to claim,
What will we do when spring shall start?
When this air is ours to claim.
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