From the mountain comes a soul And the stones grow up like trees From the mountain comes a soul And the stones grow up like trees
All blues hail Mary with her roses But you're their masterpiece
Cut away each blade of grass Our feet cannot tramp down The limb of every hanging tree That time's left hanging round
All blues sing that love is light not glory A story, not a crown
I won't be death's sad trophy now While I still lie awake I won't be death's sad trophy now While I still lie awake All the blues sing of love and death and you As chances yet to take
How dark this bit of light so late That falls upon your breast How dark this bit of light so late That falls upon your breast
All blues and grace by God, and I Will have to learn the restTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
