SONG OF ECCLESIASTES
The wind chooses where song should fall,
Where chaff should drift. The wind decides.
The wind plunges toward the south,
Then lunges again unto the north.
The wind sifts sand through windows,
Snow through black ash branches,
Cold rain through graves and fields.
The wind chooses, the wind decides.
The wind chooses where song should fall,
Where chaff should drift. The wind decides.
The wind plunges toward the south,
Then lunges again unto the north.
The wind sifts sand through windows,
Snow through black ash branches,
Cold rain through graves and fields.
The wind chooses, the wind decides.