The sun is often out

Tower Bridge is closing and all of Bermondsey's asleep
Street light walks are watered, rising fast and dark and deep
Well, is your work of art so heavy that it will not let you live?

You'll be missed
Soon there'll be flowers in the river, tears been shed
You'll be missed, you'll be missed

See life has blessed you with a gift, boy
That you've gone and thrown away
And with it your whole future and left behind your family

They're throwing flowers in the river, prayers are being said
You are missed
They're throwing flowers in the river where your body cold was found
You are missed, missed
[ Patrick Wolf Lyrics are found on [bad word] ] 

Now I sit down here at low tide and I wait for the peregrines
Stephen this is where I live now and I have [bad word] my demons
And I have grown out of that thinking that would not let me live or give

I throw my flowers in the river, the tears being shed
You are missed
And the poem reads and I remember the day
You told me that the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out

Why didn't we know that the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out
Wish I had known you better
The sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out

Was your work of art so heavy that it would not let you live?