When i was a little boy, my mother said to me, "watch the
New born roses grow. it's a pretty sight to see.
You, my son, shall blossom as the flower below. i will be your
Raindrops. you will be my rose.
Listen while i tell you of the beauty in the sky. there's a home
For angels on the clouds so high.
I must be an angel. in heaven i shall stay. if you ever need me,
I'll hear each word you say."
Now her raindrops fall no more. who will take her place? will i
Live to blossom full or wither into space?
Many times i wonder on the clouds above is it my dear mother who
Showers me with love?
When i was a little boy.