Paroles
This red tree in front of me
Sat through the fire
Fought all of its wars
And retired out of desire
Now slowly it will shed its leaves for the winter
It will fight through the cold and survive next September
Oh, how, oh, how, oh, how
Should I interpret this?
Is it a game of random choices?
Is there a maker in all this?
This red tree in front of me has me pondering
Does it even know that its leaves are dancing?
And if I say it really has no feelings
Will it be hurt, understand the meaning?
Oh, how, oh, how, oh, how
Should I interpret this?
Is it a game of random choices?
Is there a maker in all this?
Oh, how, oh, how, oh, how
Should I interpret this?
Is it a game of random choices?
Is there a maker in all this?
This red tree in front of me sat through the fire
Fought all of its wars and retired out of desire
Now slowly it will shed its leaves for the winter
It will fight through the cold and survive next September