| Winter rain, now tell me why
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| Summers fade, and roses die
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| The answer came
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| The wind and rain
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| Golden hills, now veiled in gray
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| Summer leaves have blown away
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| Now what remains? |
| The wind and rain
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| And like a desert spring
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| My lover comes and spreads her wings (flowing)
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| Like a song that’s born to soar the sky (flowing)
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| Flowing 'till the waters all are dry (flowing)
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| The loving in her eyes
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| Circle songs and sands of time
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| And seasons will end in tumbled rhyme
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| And little change
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| The wind and rain
|
| And like a desert spring
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| My lover comes and spreads her wings (flowing)
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| Like a song that’s born to soar the sky (flowing)
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| Flowing 'till the rivers all are dry (flowing)
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| The loving in her eyes
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| (Winter gray and falling rain)
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| (We'll see summer come again)
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| (Darkness falls and seasons change)
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| Gonna happen every time
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| (Same old friends the wind and rain
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| We’ll see summer by and by
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| Summers fade and roses die
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| (You'll see summer come again)
|
| Like a song that’s born to soar the sky
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| Morning comes, she follows the path to the river shore
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| Lightly sung, her song is the latch on the morning’s door
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| See the sun sparkle in the reeds, silver beads, pass into the sea
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| She comes from a town where they call her the woodcutter’s daughter
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| She’s brown as the bank where she kneels down to gather her water
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| And she bears it away with a love that the river has taught her
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| Let it flow, greatly grow, wide and clear!
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| Round and round, the cut of the plow in the furrowed field
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| Seasons round, the bushels of corn and the barley meal
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| Broken ground, open and beckoning to the spring
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| Black dirt live again!
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| The plowman is broad as the back of the land he is sowing
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| As he dances the circular track of the plow ever knowing
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| That the work of his day measures more than the planting and growing
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| Let it grow, let it grow, greatly yield!
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| What shall we say, shall we call it by a name?
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| As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
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| Water bright as the sky from which it came
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| And the name is on the earth that takes it in
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| We will not speak but stand inside the rain
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| And listen to the thunder shout «I am! |
| I am! |
| I am! |
| I am!»
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| So it goes, we make what we make since the world began
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| Nothing more, the love of the women, the work of men
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| Seasons round, creatures great and small
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| Up and down as we rise and fall
|
| What shall we say, shall we call it by a name?
|
| As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
|
| Water bright as the sky from which it came
|
| And the name is on the earth that takes it in
|
| We will not speak but stand inside the rain
|
| And listen to the thunder shout «I am! |
| I am! |
| I am! |
| I am!» |