As I stare at the unknown, Has the unknown been shaped by time? Did it not carve our minds, our health, our fears, our weakness? Because I remember the knife That cold winter night. Under the Grove. Then I see my doctor's face What a beautiful gaze What did he say? It was the sun, the sun Through the trees Does the future remain unwritten? Or does our past act as a proof? That we can change our colours, our eyes, our fields, our oceans But we can't change the truth As much as we try to Then I see my doctor's face What a beautiful gaze What did he say? I was the sun through the trees.