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Yesterday's newspapers forecast no rain for today |
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But yesterday's news is old news, the skies are all grey |
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Winter's in labour, soon to give birth to the spring |
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That will sprinkle the meadow with flowers for my Angeline |
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Heartache and sorrow and sadness unendingly find |
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Wings on a memory and with them she flies to my mind |
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She stretched her arms for a moment then went back to sleep |
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While the morning stood watching me, ever so silently weak |
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She opened her eyes, Lord, the minute my feet touched the floor |
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The cold hard wood creaked with each step that I made to the door |
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There I turned to her gently and said, Look, Hon, it's spring" |
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Knowing outside the window the winter looked for Angeline |
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Yesterday's newspapers forecast no rain for today |
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But yesterday's news is old news, the skies are all grey... |
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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm |
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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm |
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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm |
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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm |
