Morning After

The morning after, the sun is beaming The world is streaming, with no particular meaning The wind is blowing, while the boats are flowing To the beautiful insight, of the flowers cloning The birds is singing, to the whistleing of the breezing While this girl heart is cold and freezing Thinking of some reason, that her mind is in season While the leaves from the trees is leaving The rain starts to fall, as she stares in the sky so tall Seeing the shadows of the raindrops on the wall More then a woman, but less then she ever can The sound of the marching band