Time promises crows will start to Fall One of these days Now i've got my pockets full of clocks And calendars. On the eve of the miracle Wind relieves Must talk with that old man Before i let it go Time goes by as white flowers tend to grow Over my steps Never went back and now my spirit lyes on the grass. Down the hill the distance Felt within Must talk with that old man Before i let it go Reach those little white clouds Before he knocks the door.