There is a fallen tree in the slope Fallen to the wind of January What makes it still bloom Even if it has been ripped from its roots
The spring cries for what winter has done There is a cold breeze of wind The spring cries for what winter has done The stream carries bones to the shore
The spring cries for what winter has done There is a cold breeze of wind The spring cries for what winter has done The stream carries bones to the shore
When the beast awakens in its cave Summer may come A warm breath at its lips Summer may come
Guarding its secret Fearing it may be exposed As the ground gives in below its foot Ground like a body of a drowned man
The spring cries for what winter has done There is a cold breeze of wind The spring cries for what winter has done The stream carries bones to the shore
The spring cries for what winter has done There is a cold breeze of wind The spring cries for what winter has done The stream carries bones to the shore
When the beast awakens in its cave Summer may come A warm breath at its lips Summer may come
When the beast awakens in its cave Summer may come A warm breath at its lips Summer may come
When the beast awakens in its cave Summer may come A warm breath at its lips Summer may come
When the beast awakens in its cave Summer may come A warm breath at its lips Summer may come