Oh the trees without their leaves tap each other in the cool breeze.
It's an ominous sound when bone clack twigs fall to the ground.
So soon they'll be blossoms.
Lilac blue mountains cast against the sky.
The sun is leaving beyond the rise.
Wind is biting on my skin.
Pale fields of grass waiting for the sun and the spring what it can bring Winter is passing I wonder what's to come and when I return again how will you be
