Seven Green Parrots

Seven little parrots in a tree outside

The colours of their feathers change like traffic lights

Snowflakes are falling on the ground

A feather is whirling without a sound

Sometimes in a dream I walk a snow-white street

I can hear somebody whisper underneath my feet

A needle is scratching rupper soul

In the ice on the river there's a big black hole

Now that I am looking at this naked tree

I feel every branch is a bone inside me

The boy who is climbing without a sounf

The man who is standing on the ground

So seven green parrots are flying away

The leave me in the grey light closing down this winters day

The snowflakes are falling on the ground

A feather is whirling without a sound.