Gaze into the gale,
Of passion borne on winds,
And whims of need.
Into the eye of the storm,
In this warm,
Burning carress,
Embrace-ing tomorrow,
No sorrow, for tonight,
Will pass so slow,
It will ne'er go, 'way from,
Us, inside our tiny hut,
Shutters if the soul long shot, 
And the cries of us,
We, the criers, crying out our pleasure into the night.