When I Was Young and Sang in Trees
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When I was young and sang in trees
on summer nights by the moon's warm breeze

Italian songs of love and death
'neath the night's soft canopy and starry
breath.

My voice was fearless, sweet and glad
confidence in life I had

that one day on the stage I'd sing,
these unaffected notes I'd bring.

They'd sit enraptured , neck hair raised
and know that at a new star gazed......

But time like a thief, a thief in the night
removed that voice and hope took flight.

Was I ever that good? Was there ever a chance?
Was I seduced by a midsummer trance?

by the moon's warm breath, the night's starry breeze?
when I was young and sang in trees.