The ground is soft. Winter's gone. The grass is blonde, But not for long.
Bring us the change. Bring us the growth. Bring us the springtime. Bring us the rain. Bring us the rose. Bring us the springtime.
The trees look dead waving empty branches. The sparrows look worn out. Winter was tough, they took their chances.
And my love, my love is crying. For this season, our season is dying.
The sun sits high in the sky. Clouds are rolling. Things here live and die. Wait, my child, new life is coming.
