Oh how I see it
When the sun kisses the land before going to bed
Oh how I hear it
When the birds sing their sweet melody entrancing the peace
Oh how I feel it
When the snow makes the hair on my skin nervous
Oh how I smell it
When the ink dries itself off on paper
Oh how I taste it
When the cinnamon bun melts the icy icing on its skin
But yet I refuse to believe in it