(Squire/Bailey)
Sparkling trees of silver foam cast shadows in winter home,
Swaying branches breaking sound, lonely forest trembling ground
Masquerading leaves of blue run circles round the morning dew,
Patterns understood by you, reaching out beyond and before
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down to hidden levels underground,
Say a few words to the wind, that's all that's left of winter's friend
Reaching the snow in the days of the cold, casting a spell out of ice
Now that you're gone,
The summer's too long and it seems like the end of my life
Beyond and before
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down