Vārdi: Noise Ratchet. Noise Ratchet. Desired.

A summerset to my eyes, with memories of a child
I had no responsibilities, to help or to have more than I could hold onto
It's a slow song to me, desired
I run through the tree, my desire
As I wonder now all's grown cold, but in rememberance there's a story told
Of a softer song for a softer soul, and the innocent heart to hold