He is not a weatherman

But his bride lies with the land

And she will whisper to him

I'll be dressing up in snow

Cloaked in echo it's almost

As if only Nature knows

How to bring his wife to life

And breathe her into form One more look from her eyes

One more look can you paint her back to life He knows every moor and mound

Every curve of every hill

A shoulder of the mountain

Where they watched a thousand dawns One more look from her eyes

One more look can you paint her back to life Rising she stirs

First it blurs

A breeze that lifts

Lilac blossoms from the earth

Blending its shape

To a skirt

With limbs that bend

He's drawn toward her pirouette turn

Autumn's peach black

Winter's velvet coat

Pink Tourmaline,

Palette of Spring

In Summer she's wrapped in Viennese green He is not a weatherman

But his bride lies with the land

And she will whisper to him

I'll be dressing up in snow

Cloaked in echo it's almost

As if only Nature knows

How to paint his wife to life

With every season's tone One more look from her eyes

One more look from her eyes

One more look from her eyes

One more look from her eyes

One more look from her eyes

One more look can you paint her back to life