COTTONWOOD Copyright © 1967 Wayne Linder



Cottonwood, cottonwood
Where have you gone
Your bleeding heart
Was close to my own.

You climbed so high
But fell back to the ground.
Living is rougher
When you're not around.
The wind used to whisper
Now it can't make a sound.

Cry , cry , cry for a tree
Try , try , try hard to see
That things like this tree
Mean only to be
Why is it we
Refuse to see
The granduer of a tree with a bleeding heart .



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