Paint my world, Lord, paint my world.
Paint the spring bugles that trumpet spring's arrival.
Paint them yellow,
these earthen suns...
Their pure color a burst of energy singing
against the brown late winter landscape.
Paint them with such intensity that
their beauty simply cannot be matched.
We've all stopped to wonder
at earth's rebirth.
Yes. We've all stopped to wonder.
And spring is new to me again, in her eyes.