Wake me when spring has sprung

When the cold is gone,

And skies no longer gray.

Rouse me with the cries of birds

A warm wind blown my way

And a green light in the shade.

Dress me in the blooming buds,

Let butterflies be my lips,

And raindrops as my eyes.

Replace my heart with a shining star

And fill my head with a soft white cloud.

Drip the shine of morning in my veins

And I’ll have the fresh green grass for my hair.

Take my bones for branches.

Make my tears have a honey-suckle taste.

My breath would be the pollen sifting through the air.

Take me from my sleeping ground

And lay me in the fresh cold stream.

Wake me when sping is sprung,

But until then, I’m going to sleep.