Well I suppose you expect me To sing about my feelings About an old friend or long lost lover Or how I'm scared of getting older Yes, I'm scared of getting older
But I'd rather sing of simple things That have nothing to do with me Like a bird in the sky, or the moon on a hill Or the way the dust settles on your windowsill But these simple things are not simple things at all
And I could tell stories All about people I made in my mind I could sing poetry and fables And you'd listen to all of my lies All of my lies
But I'd rather sing of simple things That have nothing to do with me Like a bird in the sky, or the moon on a hill Or the way the dust settles on your windowsill But these simple things are not simple things at all
How do I sing of love when I don't understand the lines on my hands? How do I know my soul when I can't understand Why I'm here, who I am Or the bird in the sky, or the moon on a hill, or the way the dust settles on your windowsill No I don't understand But someday Maybe I willTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
