The Storm

Every time I pass your place
I get an image of your face
And then I wonder what you're thinking of
As I look through the mist to your window above
And the clouds roll by
But the silver has tarnished for me in the sky

Minutes passed by and the mist starts drifting
And the rain starts falling and the air gets cold
And I try to move away but my feet won't let me
The stay right there but I don't feel cold
I feel old

Storm, storm, storm
Storm, storm, storm

Wind is blowing and the rain is pouring
And the sky is a mess of broiling figures
And her eyes fetch fire then it drifts across the heavens
And the sour, old man being torn apart by desire
Desire

Minutes passed by and the mist starts drifting
And the rain starts falling and the air gets cold
And I try to move away but my feet won't let me
The stay right there but I don't feel cold
I feel old

Feel old
Feel old

Wind is blowing and the rain is pouring
And the sky is a mess of broiling figures
And her eyes fetch fire then it drifts across the heavens
And the sour, old man being torn apart by desire
Desire

Desire