90 jobs are gone, ten they gone, they said the sun And this is the only place on earth, who's on its grove.

And once a year they come and go.

This old house here by the road.

When they die, they say they'll catch them.

Like birds wing, they will fly away to heaven.

Some sweet blue morning spring.

Cause when we die, we say we'll catch.

So like birds wing, we will fly away.

wait again some sweet blue palming spring.