Ant Smith

Seasons

Sing to me

Sing to me of apples, of windfalls on the floor

Sing to me of brambles, of scratches on your paws

Sing to me of springtime, of bounties made for man

And I will sing to you of, this barren promised land

Sing to me of solstice, of belief in mystery

Sing to me of lovers, of mankind's history

Sing to me of summer of, the birds and of the bees

And I will sing to you of, the illusion of the free

Sing to me of harvest, of tasting what you reap

Sing to me of living, of beauty running deep

Sing to me of autumn of, karma and the wheel

And I will sing to you of, what it is to never feel

Sing to me of dark nights, of home fires and of warmth

Sing to me of new life, of the coming of the dawn

Sing to me of winter of, the ancient northern lights

And I will sing to you of, diseases and of blights

Sing to me of living, of rejoicing in this world

Sing your hallelujah as though it were a dirge

Sing to me of years as, years tumble by

And I will sing to you of the human waste of life

Seasons