the wind blows in the trees,
it covers all people's fees.
in the air are flying dead leaves,
it's a story of beauty and the beast.
once falling snow is melting,
millions of blades are bending,
the spring is almost coming
and weather is warming.
the sun covers itself with its hand,
just not to see the night's strenght.
people aren't playing fair,
being kind isn't a new sphare.
spread your wings and fly high.
the winter gives you a long sigh
to cover the scars, it might.
you won't be free without a fight.
