There's a secret picnic spot A place for us to greet To stretch out our feet
If we go there now With blanket and basket Lay down in the tall grass Spread our things out and feast Meet the setting sun with our blank slate My distractions concentrated on an eight by six piece of wool As darkness seeps through the trees And spreads over our secret picnic spot We'll dig in Dig with our hands, tearing the roots Digging, scraping, digging
The moon comes up howling Racing, digging, scraping Breezing dark across the sky Caught in the branches Swaying up and over Through the clouds and black
Starless Secret
Basket turned broomstick A hayride across the big blue and black Buried, deep mounds of dirt and stardust covering up Eight by six piece of wool draped over fine lines The curves of a feast
This is our secret picnic spot Turned inside out and made pure By the heavy wind and rustling leaves From now till we greet again Joining hands and feet Tender teeth, digging and scraping Tender feast
Moonlight sway Over allTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
