There are purple trees inside this head,
The roots grow down to my toes.
And the purples leaves (as my mother said)
are colours that no other knows.

For I was born in a heartless world of red,
As blue rained from the sky.
But my soul's a seed (as my mother said),
From which purple began to rise.

I am now a Forrest of red and blue,
and colours you cannot see.
And I may not be you, or you,
But I am most definitely me.

So tell me a lie / a label / a truth,
That is primary to believe.
But I am not a red and blue youth,
For I am full of purple trees.

Leave me by the forrest creek where the flowers grow, well I don't know where it leads but dear I' gotta go. But honey babe am I walking too fast? Not even my God will tell me if these flowers last.

I've been everywhere but here, I've been all around. Been where daisies disappear, my dear I've nearly drowned. So honey babe am I walking too fast? Not even my God will tell me if these flowers last.

I've seen the sun give birth to the sound of Spring, seen roses live and die, babe I've seen everything. But honey babe am I walking too fast? Not even my God will tell me if these flowers last.

I'm praying for the water to take me to an open spring, where darkness disappears and dear I'll hear you sing. But honey babe am I walking too fast? When not even my God will tell me if these flowers last.

I've shot a hundred rabbits
Made of a gun of dodgy habits
Saw the sky and couldn't grab it
Made a net and tried to catch it
But like a soaring eagle,
Beauty only wants to be free
So I'll just head on home,
Lay down in my bedroom and sleep

Bed bugs and butterflies
Been stuck inside my eyes
Can't seem to see just why
I haven't learnt to fly
Guess I've just learnt to sleep with
Little creatures blocking my view
Rain droplets drizzle down,
Whilst I still dream of you

I dream of rainy mornings,
Cool clouds and daylight dawning,
Sweet sounds of robins calling
Tip-taps of raindrops falling
I know it's somewhere out there
Like its been waiting for me
I see it in my window,
I see it in the trees

The smell of a spring rain
settling on the earth
is the smell of life anew.

At the window, I sit with a book,
both cracked,
cooled by the alfresco air seeping through,
and tiny droplets glissando down the pane.

The pitter-patter of a soft rain
falling to the parched earth
is the sound of life replenished.

At the rain's offset, I leap from my chair,
exiting the front door,
to saunter through the lush green pastures
that linger outside the library's confines.

How green the trees appear, and the grass--
how rich the stalks of the trees,
their boughs with budding leaves quenched,
glistening in the sun.

I even enjoy the scent coming off the once arid pavement--
it is the smell of the earth,
freed from its impedance,
rising above the stifling asphalt.  

I smell the life that lingers beneath,
and the dull metallic tinfoil taste of the pavement
fills my open nostrils--

It is pleasant, though a little less so, than the ambrosial landscape.

I inhale ever so deeply,
relishing my favorite part of spring,
in the offset of a warm afternoon rain on a brisk day,
sauntering through the wood-laden trails on worn brick paths,

to the paved parking lot where my car awaits--
delineated in a filmy layer of mired pollen residue.
It needed a wash anyways.

The night is my friend
While the sun sleeps,
I find peace in staring at the stars
A smile slips through my my lips
As my mind wonders off.

The silence of the night, charming my ears,
Allows me to hear the muffled cries
Of the world beyond the horizon
Laced by the stars.