
There are many stairs
we complain on every hike
there are stairs at least

There are many stairs
we complain on every hike
there are stairs at least

Hazy, the sun tries
nearly swallowed by the fog
makes it through the day

Drying up fern leaves
browning, crumbling, shrivelling
old age comes to all

Big old brown-leaf tree
stands under the winter rain
ageing gracefully

We like a big life
to live on edge looking down
forget we are small.