And the black birds in the spring, on the willow treeSad and low-key, heard humans sing, singing all the wayAll the way, all the way, made of golden hairSunshine came along, you see, as swallows in the airIn the brush, the rose was born, music when you speakThrough the azure, I don't want, sparkling, seem to breakAll the way, all the way, made of golden hairNever saw a sun to leave, I see the sweet springAll the way, all the way
