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