There is an area in the south of France known 
as the languedoc, a remarkably mystical region 
of red soil and stark mountains.
It is a place of incredible stillness,
where nature speaks and messages can be 
heard clearly, If only we will listen
 
 

Summer of life it all begins 
it grows but yet in shadows
It wasn't dark it wasn't bad
I cherished all the things I had
But the longing wracked my soul

Our truest nature who we are
well that's the one that got away
As we bury it in nine to five 
Forgetting how to feel alive
But yet it breathes below