Fully cloaked in mountain air
With twigs and moss fixed in my hair
The trees they tense their tall thin limbs
Foretell the coming of winter again
Don't you drop me like your changing leaves
We made a promise prenuptially
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words are wind that change
The tone of the seasons
She says her bright green dress is changing colours
And the winds from the west are bringing others like you
And I'm not like you
Hustle, hustle through brush and thistle
They're trained to wilt by the time
The missile tows away the sun
Trudge through a sea of green
March a mile to meet the queen of
Of the mountain

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS