The fling of 2007 has flung...
The Red Roses cry out
Begging it to stay
Petal by petal drops to the ground
The people
They blame it on the passing time
Not knowing that time, in itself, will pass
Whether or not it is blamed
The Red Roses cry out
Begging it to stay
Petal by petal drops to the ground
The people
They blame it on the passing time
Not knowing that time, in itself, will pass
Whether or not it is blamed
...
The fling of 2007 was here...
It made the North winds blow and howl
The fields of daisies sprung out as it did after the South showers
Out of the field of yellow
An aspiring dot of darkness breaks to the surface
As the clouds dip in to take a closer look
It scoffs to find the childish likeness of a naive sunflower
As it feels the warmth of the golden rays
Its heart is filled with a breath of fresh air
And its eyes are open to see things it has never seen before
...
The fling of 2007 is leaving...
The wind carries the cherry blossom petals East
For hopes were to be brought along
Blown higher and further
The young swallows fly West, searching
For the once familiar feel
That of the friendly summer
The old oak tree stands rooted
Spreading out its shade
Worried of the incoming winter
The chipmunks make a warm home in their hearts
Once again, the Red Roses cry out wearily
Petal by petal
Is crunched against the dry ground
Hoping for the next fling to be flung
As it once did
When it made a lonesome heart feel whole
It made the North winds blow and howl
The fields of daisies sprung out as it did after the South showers
Out of the field of yellow
An aspiring dot of darkness breaks to the surface
As the clouds dip in to take a closer look
It scoffs to find the childish likeness of a naive sunflower
As it feels the warmth of the golden rays
Its heart is filled with a breath of fresh air
And its eyes are open to see things it has never seen before
...
The fling of 2007 is leaving...
The wind carries the cherry blossom petals East
For hopes were to be brought along
Blown higher and further
The young swallows fly West, searching
For the once familiar feel
That of the friendly summer
The old oak tree stands rooted
Spreading out its shade
Worried of the incoming winter
The chipmunks make a warm home in their hearts
Once again, the Red Roses cry out wearily
Petal by petal
Is crunched against the dry ground
Hoping for the next fling to be flung
As it once did
When it made a lonesome heart feel whole
=becks=