The Fisher King کے بول

went down by the riverside That runs between the hazel'd halls And on an apple-blossomed hill I slept beside the golden falls And as I wandered far in sleep The fisher king flashed blue on gray I heard a voice come from the deep And call my name from far away Rain won't wash away the memories And the wind won't hide her perfume But it blows I linger by the western sea I hear the horseman riding past Young dreams I dreamt are gone from me Like summer whispers in the grass Rain won't wash away the memories And the wind won't hide her perfume But it blows Rain won't wash away the memories And the wind won't hide her perfume 1