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180426273.gif
(Gene McLellan)
Beneath it's snowy mantle cold and clean,
The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green.
The snowbird sings the song he always sings,
And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.
When I was young my heart was young then, too.
And anything that it would tell me, that's the thing that I would do.
But now I feel such emptiness within,
For the thing that I want most in life's the thing that I can't win.
Spread your tiny wings and fly away,
And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.
The one I love forever is untrue,
And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.
The breeze along the river seems to say,
That he'll only break my heart again should I decide to stay.
So, little snowbird, take me with you when you go,
To that land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow.
Spread your tiny wings and fly away,
And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.
The one I love forever is untrue,
And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.
Yeah, if I could I know that I would fly away with you...
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Yeah, if I could I know that I would fly away with you...
And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.
The one I love forever is untrue,
And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.
Spread your tiny wings and fly away,
To that land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow.
So, little snowbird, take me with you when you go,
That he'll only break my heart again should I decide to stay.
The breeze along the river seems to say,
And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.
The one I love forever is untrue,
And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.
Spread your tiny wings and fly away,
For the thing that I want most in life's the thing that I can't win.
But now I feel such emptiness within,
And anything that it would tell me, that's the thing that I would do.
When I was young my heart was young then, too.
And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.
The snowbird sings the song he always sings,
The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green.
Beneath it's snowy mantle cold and clean,
(Gene McLellan)
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