From the recording Gray May Day


There're times, I think I smell the earth,
when everything's shut under—
Everyone else is waiting for the thaw—
on me the wind blows soft—
It's all for you.

I know, this spring is in my mind,
a trick of trickled time—
Occasionally summer visits me in fall—
A private matter after all —
Is that you I saw? 
Did I hear you call?

But you can't go back home again, they say—
I say, sometimes it comes your way.

Last March, I was digging in the the yard—
I found a small painted horse, 
lost for good and maybe mourned, till now,
like a bottle on the shore,
message blurred,
but it all returns.

I wait for you,
all for you,
all for you.

℗© 2023 Max Hatt / Edda Glass
Composition: Max Hatt
Lyrics: Edda Glass