My soul is reaching out for you As my tears continue to roll like the fresh morning dew My heart continues to ache As I gaze, at the sea that reaches for the sky Its waves continue to die But it keeps yearning for the sky It listlessly cries There is no answers to its sighs.
Oh cloudy sky, how many storms do you hold in your bosom ? What unrest do you stoically hold? How many slurs shall you continue to endure? You grow grim, you grow dark, my overcast sky, what burden do you hold? Mortals keep wishing for a sunny day or a starry night, disregarding the great griefs that you keep building.