I have spent my days,
Counting many things.
In leaves, there are thousands,
In secrets, my lips are sealed.
But of all the things I have counted,
The least of which grew out in the field.
Five Hundred Flowers,
I've counted them all.
From the edge of the sea,
To the front of my door.
There are Five Hundred Flowers,
And there aren't any more.
Counting many things.
In leaves, there are thousands,
In secrets, my lips are sealed.
But of all the things I have counted,
The least of which grew out in the field.
Five Hundred Flowers,
I've counted them all.
From the edge of the sea,
To the front of my door.
There are Five Hundred Flowers,
And there aren't any more.