the birds are out singin', no clouds in the sky,
looks like a nice day for a pretty white lie.
well, it starts out white, till it all turns black,
and you're sayin' sweet words that you can't take back.

oh, won't you play me a simpler tune,
where the promises of winter are kept until june?
cause' the notes are your fingers, and your touch is the song,
you play my heart like a harp, and i sing along.

the birds have gone home, and rain pours from the sky,
looks like a nice night to ask you why.
but still, then, your answers are never the same.
i guess no matter the weather, you will never change.

oh, wont you play me a simpler tune,
where your feelings don't leave when the sun trades with the moon.
cause' the notes are your fingers, and your touch is the song,
but i can't just play and hope for you to sing along...