Painted ladies dance upon the tall grass
The Apaturas fly through the willow trees
Young lovers lie out on the bayou banks
The skies look too majestic for any words

Seasons may come and then they up and go
But the scenery still continues to grow
birds may always leave their little shacks
But always somehow find their ways back

Wildflowers are living peacefully with Spanish moss
Swamps look like a piece of artwork in galleries
Dragonflies glide on the wind as they pass on by
You can hear the wild dogs in the distance

Seasons may come and then they up and go
But the scenery still continues to grow
birds may always leave their little shacks
But always somehow find their ways back

The smell of flowers are strong in the air
Gypsies meet near to give thanks to the mother
Blue waters lace the coast as they walk along it
The sun's going down and the moon's on the horizon

Seasons may come and then they up and go
But the scenery still continues to grow
birds may always leave their little shacks
But always somehow find their ways back

Spells are cast in the pitch of the woods
Children play in the shallows of the rivers
Cults dance around a fire chantin' words of old
Night's are alive like the depths of our souls

Seasons may come and then they up and go
But the scenery still continues to grow
birds may always leave their little shacks
But always somehow find their ways back

~ LoverOfTheBayou 🐊