You may try run from the weather,
hide yourself from the cold breeze.
I may not can change the weather,
but a warm home I can build.

Perhaps the robins never came,
perhaps the spring never awake.
I may not can bring the flowers,
but a golden seed I can plant.

Some may hit you with their hatefulness,
some may broke you like a glass.
I may not can fix you over,
but together we can try.

And you may believe I'm little
with my tinny shaking hands,
but what I got it's what I'm hiding
and I got a lot reserved.