May speaks to morning sun, forgetting mistakes.
We sometimes make.
That soon or late, my love.
So beautiful you are and your voice will resound,
be ready when seasons change.

The lonely sounds, my waking of you.
Until the day
I can hear you along the way.
I've come to hear, wooing, for it will find us.
May of morning sun until the break of day..
To keep me wide awake