The song thrush

Aja-ja-ja, complained the song thrush,
my feets are frozen.
Aja-ja-ja, complained the song thrush,
where is my heaven?

And now the ice is melting ino water,
and everything now will be okay.
And water would slowley flow from the stream,
and fulfill their dreams.

Aja-ja-ja, once again the sun is rising.
Aja-ja-ja, once again it's quite hot.
Aja-ja-ja, Aja-ja-ja.

vAja-ja-ja, complained the song thrush,
my feets are frozen.
Aja-ja-ja, complained the song thrush,
where is my heaven now?