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I hear you call me, branches break in the wind |
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and through the leaves and concrete you're gonna grow into something that death can't steal |
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a garden that gives, sprouts come up glowing |
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fruits of jade and golden silver trees to mark the legacy |
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of a life that finally learned what this means |
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the invisible choir sings you a voiceless lesson |
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so you'll always remember what grew out of decisions that death can't steal |
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lives that learned to give when it seemed there was nothing |
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oh, how much more it meant to those around we go |
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there's a rhythm soft and slow |
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you'll always hear the choir if you listen close |
