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Lyrics
Here the summer passed,
Shadows burned too fast,
Passion turned to flame,
Nothing stayed the same.
Whispers in the rain,
Sorrow leaves a stain,
Memories collide,
Buried deep inside.
Storms across the sky,
Dreams that fade, that die,
Fire turns to dust,
Ashes, love, and trust.
Darkness pulls me near,
Echoes drown the fear,
Here the summer bled,
All the light is dead.
The idea#
Season as autopsy: summer passed, shadows burned too fast, passion to flame, nothing the same. Whispers in rain, storms, fire to dust—then the bleak couplet “Here the summer bled, / All the light is dead.” Echoes drown fear only by louder weather.
Trance’s dark drive suits a short lyric that refuses consolation. Memory collides underground; love and trust join the ash list. I hear end-of-affair as end-of-season—time itself accused of arson.
