"  Had you stolen my Springs, I could've taken them back ..

  Had  you painted my summers blue, I could've tried to see the sun peek through..

  

  Were you as cold as the winter, I would've fled for warmth ..

  But what do I do, when even as torrents pour down on me,

   I desire for nothing else but pain,

   and the feel of you on my skin ..

   I wish you were a colour that could be wiped away.

  But when you were what marked my Springs and Rains, 

 and filled my Summer and Snow .. 

  What do I do besides watch - 

  As on me -

  

 more and more you grow ..

 more and more you grow "