II: Summer
If it weren't to be now, tell me when it was going to be?
You build your creed and make believe you better stay right here
But when it comes down to the thing, you are older than you imagine
And if it doesn't make things happen now, perhaps it's your last chance.
It's too late. Too late
III: Autumn
The winds are howling on my blue hands - I think I couldn't hear the starting gun
My senses tangled to the core - I stand to a few dreams waiting for more
IV: Winter
Now you're close to see an end and feel the story must be told
But in the end we see the story has just begun