In time, every season must conclude,
And, with it, the love I have carried for you.
Oh, let us be children and live without care,
Live without love, the must subtle of snares.

I ask not for a summer, spring, winter, or fall,
I'd rather have never loved you at all.
Because sadness takes the most destructive of forms,
No April showers; just thunderstorms.

In our youth, we are destined to be apart,
Conclusions both heal and destroy the heart.
Shameless crimes we've committed now wear on my soul,
Perhaps we'll find healing once we're both alone.

Love makes people foolish; I will not be a fool,
Before the world finds me weak, they will first find me cruel.
But if I let our love die, all has not been in vain,
You will heal with the seasons, and find love again.