Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Her Song

Since this song first was heard on the radio, long ago in 1972, she thought that it must have been written just for her. How could they know? She is ready for a new song now.

She's faced the hardest times
you could imagine
and many times her eyes fought back the tears
and when her youthful world
was about to fall in
each time her slender shoulders
bore the weight of all her fears
and a sorrow no one hears
still rings in midnight silence,
in her ears.

Let her cry, for she's a lady
let her dream, for she's a child
let the rain fall down upon her
She's a free and gentle flower,
growing wild.

And if by chance I should hold her
let me hold her for a time
but if allowed just one possession
I would pick her from the garden,
to be mine.

Be careful how you touch her,
for she'll awaken
and sleep's the only freedom that she knows
and when you walk into her eyes,
you won't believe
the way she's always paying
for a debt she never owes
and a silent wind still blows
that only she can hear and so she goes.

Let her cry, for she's a lady
let her dream, for she's a child
let the rain fall down upon her
She's a free and gentle flower,
growing wild.