I look up the sky,
where the clouds turn greyish,
where the drops start falling down
As I feel inside,
Still I can see the blooming spring
Still I can stare at the sleeping squirell
Still I can see the blackbirds fly
Still I can feel the wind blows
And how about the days ahead?
Tomorrow must be different
Still I am sure
I will be coming over
where the clouds turn greyish,
where the drops start falling down
As I feel inside,
Still I can see the blooming spring
Still I can stare at the sleeping squirell
Still I can see the blackbirds fly
Still I can feel the wind blows
And how about the days ahead?
Tomorrow must be different
Still I am sure
I will be coming over