Seven green parrots Seven little parrots in a tree outside The colours of their feathers change like traffic lights Snowflakes are falling on the ground A feather is whirling without a sound Sometimes in a dream I walk a snow-white street I can hear somebody whisper underneath my feet A needle is scratching rupper soul In the ice on the river there's a big black hole Now that I am looking at this naked tree I feel every branch is a bone inside me The boy who is climbing without a sounf The man who is standing on the ground So seven green parrots are flying away The leave me in the grey light closing down this winters day The snowflakes are falling on the ground A feather is whirling without a sound.