the morning I die the clocks won't stop the traffic lights will wink on in the streets and the skies gonna rain drop by drop when i do the last of my breathings
when I die bury me on the top of the white hill 'cause I'd like to see the birds rushing by(2)
the morning I die the coldest of the year the northern winds will keep spinning around and the trees will swing the snowflakes sting but I know I'll get warm in the ground
when I die bury me on the top of the white hill 'cause I'd like to see the birds rushing by(2)