Lyrics

STILL WOOD ON THE TREES
© Copyright 1997 Jane Wexler

You might think that the ocean?s dead
He might think that the air?s all lead
She might think that the rivers have been bled
They might see how the sun?s turned pale
We might know that the land?s gone frail
You might think that it?s all gone off the scale

But Winters come when Summers leave
And Autums come despite the heat
When all the world is gasping for its breath
I know it?s hard to keep the peace
And harder still to spread the fleece
When everybody?s asking for their piece
But if you look at the things, the things you like
Look at them hard with all your might
I tell you what I see

There?s still wood on the trees
And gold on the leaves
Wood on the trees
And gold on the leaves

We might think that we know it all
And maybe we?re about to fall
Away like some floating shattered ball
Drift in space, no human race
To mind the fields or propogate
I don?t believe we?re going there at all

I believe that destiny
Is really just the way you see
The casting of the shadows on the wall
How you trace a line that moves in time
With every turn and every wind
It?s not something that?s cut and dry at all
If you look at the things, the things you like
Look at them hard with all your might
It?s something that will always be

There?s still wood on the trees
And gold on the leaves
Wood on the trees
And gold on the leaves