It's hard not to feel deflated When you really try to do the right thing And you don't get half the way
He cleans up the forest floor He practices some steps he'd never seen before So unaware that she's a swing door Left in fainted feelings on the empty stage once more
Limestones, bay leaves, dinner snail With all that effort he can hardly fail But will she stay? Will she fly? Will she sing? Find a suitable treetop to make a new home Or does he have to wait till next spring? It's a dusky dawn day And if you carefully listen You would hear him say:
