Strange are the days
How they seem out of place
Flowers spring in a row
To defeat the ridden snow

Yet they exist
Without magic or tricks
When by chance, loving June
Gasps for air and calls out "Bloom!"

We walk through the door a second time around
To do what was said but never done,
And promised you gardens made of green

Yet we're lost in this tune, just men of the moon
That sing for a world of constant bloom