Down that steep suburb hill, where houses stand in rows,
her ponytail is flying on her bike she goes,
braking hard at the market and swerves into a yard
and her cheeks are flushed, she’s breathing hard.

Little boy comes running and holds his sister’s side,
dirty streaks down his cheeks from all the tears he’s cried;
she puts her arms around him and strokes his matted hair,
soothingly she whispers her there-there.

July, a warm day in July,
sun and a blue sky,
there’s more light than meets the eye.
July, one fine day in July,
under a blue sky,
I’ll dry your tears, now don’t you cry.

Since we’re all grown-ups we’re not supposed to break,
sisters don’t rush to our sides at false steps we take;
alone without comfort we play our adult plays,
holding back our tears recalling childhood days.

Clouds are floating in the sky,
the days are getting darker.
Leaves are flying ‘cross the fields,
the harvest left them naked
The summer’s heat just will not fade,
the winter’s not yet coming

Change is in the countryside,
colours are no longer bright,
in three months all will be white.

Oh, September sun you slowly fade away
and you rise a little later day-by-day.

Kites are flying in the sky,
while little dogs are barking.
Gardeners mow their perfect lawns
and cut off withered roses.
A hint of fall is in the air
and we all feel it waiting

Walking the streets the leaves are falling,
a frozen chill hangs in the air.
The clouds hang low, the winter’s calling,
it’s moving in from everywhere.

Brenda feels cold now rain is falling
the bus stop posters smile in vain.
The air smells stale, the traffic’s stalling
and windscreens gleam with drops of rain.

Yes, it’s the rhythm of the seasons
with their ever-changing beat
at the core of all the reasons
we’re at Mother Nature’s feet, at her feet.

Through all the noise a creepy quietness
invades her body, claims her soul.
And moving slow her thoughts grow endless
with optimism on the dole.

It’s cold tonight my loved one the stars freeze to the sky,
we’ll keep us warm ‚till the day’s begun feel long hours floating by.

A tender dream within a dream your hands will lead the way,
come let me make your aura gleam until we meet the day.

Come with me, it’s so cold outside
and dark clouds hide the moon,
no snow can chill this winter night,
‚cause my inside feels like June.

You sweet words send me back in time, feel the spring within me now
and hear my mem’ries softly chime so you no longer wonder how.

Playful child with her face full of laughter
she’s worth all her weight in pure gold!
If you have her run through the sun and you chasing after
such fun much too priceless to be sold.
Just think that after a day of such cheerful play
you are floating, falling, rising, dreaming.

Pale full moon and a town’s just awaking
his milky grin keeps pace while you go.
On your way to work where an old man is raking
his front-door lawn skilful and slow.
In this peaceful dawn what a pleasure to yawn
to be floating, falling, rising, dreaming.

It’s either long ago or not gonna be,
deep in your memory or plain fantasy,
there’s more than enough to make a blind man see.

Do you ever notice the world around you,
come on, man, open your eyes!
It’s all there made to astound you,
ready to lift the disguise.

A large ferry bridging a slow friendly stream,
the green banks are so far apart.
See the setting sun shine a path on the water
that reaches deep down to your heart.
And the wind whispers joy so glad you are living,
to be floating, falling, rising, dreaming.

Low and wide the countryside
the hills greet from afar.
The meadows green I’ve never seen
below the evening star.
So pale the haze that rises now
and floats down gentle valleys,
a moody breeze plays in the trees
that frame forgotten alleys.

The sun sets well as if in peace
with what her day achieved.
Her purple light welcomes a night
whose darkness can’t be deceived.
For calmness without sorrow reigns
invites deep understanding;
a church bell chimes its last good night
and may all your troubles be ending.

It was late that afternoon
when clouds filled sky and mind.
Wasteland wallowed on the scene,
no hope in front and behind.
Shadows lay upon the land
and road dust dimmed the light;
but I had to walk this way,
no hopeful thought in sight.

God I long for clear blue sky over me,
crystal waters and the sight of a tree.