In quiet times
forest watches over
i gather the seeds left behind
throw them back into the clouds
back into clouds

same scene painted over
this fan opens another and another

awake first thing deep into the morning
until summer folds your miracle
we've met hundreds of times
somewhere, somewhen, sometime
we've met hundreds of times
somewhere, somewhen, sometime

every day we're weaving through time
every day we're weaving through time

again and again
again and again

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