Roots deep in the soil,
Leaves high in the air,
Branches stretching out,
all without a care.

Tulips in the garden,
Roses in a vase,
All the while, all alone,
Is a tree in the mist and haze.

Sticking out like a sore,
But beautiful as can be,
the flowers blossom in the spring,
Nobody appreciates what they see.

The end will come soon,
Tulips still in the garden; roses in a vase,
as the storm blows it down,
there’s nothing but firewood, in this mist and haze.