The grey of winter falls on us -
How will our garden grow ?
Will all the seeds we've sown
Survive beneath the snow ?
We've been here before,
Wrapped in our regret.
All those winter words,
I want us to forget them...

Seasons may change
And they hold wild flowers,
Raising their face to the sun.
All that are born from our soft rainshowers
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Are wild flowers.

Morning breaks
And no-one wakes;
No bird is here to sing.
So, from the south I wish them back
To brace the spring.
They've flown south before,
It's just the way they live.
For when I try to fly away
Can you forgive me ?

Seasons may change and they hold wild flowers...