As the white petals fall
and the brown scorched
earth
beneath my feet turn green
again
I stop, look towards the hills
and breathe in dead leaves
But the creek can be heard
running once again
from night time drinks of snow
As the white petals fall
and the brown scorched
earth
beneath my feet turn green
again
I stop, look towards the hills
and breathe in dead leaves
But the creek can be heard
running once again
from night time drinks of snow