In the hour before sunrise when the shadows hustle home and the owls dream of day-break and the redwoods softly moan I have often begged for magic to bring my true love home. but the sunrise only shows how well my garden grows in the heat of a single blood-red rose These eyes, no good for darkness, rely upon the tenderness of shadows for their passion And the branches slowly twist tangled promise with a kiss only lovers can imagine I have often begged for morning confessing all she knows, but the sunrise only shows how well my garden grows in the heat of a blood-red rose In the hours of my morning In the vision of the light lay the afternoon and evening and a promise of the night I have often begged for darkness to still these trembling hands, but the sunrise only shows how well my garden grows in the heat of the blood-red sandTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
