The Suffering Of The Stream

<br>There is a place where she would always be<br>Where the blossom snows between the cankered trees<br>Holding his sour breath<br>He knows she`s there<br>Watching the torrent as it flows<br>Watching her soft white dress, it flows<br>In the innocent breezes<br>Smoothing the stones<br>Watching her cold white dress, it floats<br>He could see his love like a long forgotten dream<br>He could see his love veiled beneath the stream<br>He could see his love grow pallid and suffer as he weeps<br>His tears fall around her in oil-rainbow streaks<br>He could see his own reflection cloud the stones<br>There is a place where she will always be<br>Where the blossom floats above her through the reeds<br>Where cling the willow roots<br>His fingers reach<br>Searching for her lost arms to seize<br>Watching her soft white dress, it flows<br>In the innocent breezes<br>Smoothing the stones<br>Watching her cold white dress, it floats