Sunday Morning

Sunday morning
Nothing’s going to happen
Sometimes life is good without surprise

I have the rays
Of sun over the palms
Of my opened hands towards the sky

And California is in my mind
Speaking of something I can’t hide

Hills around here
Seems to be awaiting
An explosion of life and of heat

And I would like
To participate
But in my mind there is the same whirl

Can I change all without changing
So that can do always the wind?

So life is made of butter 
It can melt in a moment 
Or through a shaking rather 
Being again soft and sweet 

A picture of this moment
Can capture little truth 
That in a second’s over 
And lie fills both my hands 

Take back all
The failures and victories
And with them stir up a flame so high

Every day
Can be right for the choice
That may give back your life to yourself

May be there is no place to arrive
And I’ve to accept I’m just arrived

So life is made of butter 
It can melt in a moment 
Or through a shaking rather 
Being again soft and sweet 

A picture of this moment 
Can capture little truth 
That in a second’s over 
And lie fills both my hands 

Sunday morning
Nothing’s going to happen
Even if it is the triumph of life