Strange are the days, how the semm out of place - Flowers spring in a row, to defeat the ridden snow Yet they exist without magic or tricks, when by chance loving June gasps for air and calls out bloom
Life as is said goes up and down, we walk through the door a second time around. To do what was said but never done We promised you gardens made of green Yet we're lost in this tune, just men of the moon That sing for a world of constant bloom
