Honesty came tumbling, chipping under my teeth Shell set on the modesty, spooling around my feet The deck is not an altar, the yard had always known that Where my orange cat runs that assures me He's yearning for my hand, he's purring And turning while the
Sand is working Land is working Hand is working
Honesty is bubbling out of the garden spring What was it that we declaimed, come fix me up a king But the deck is not the guillotine, the yard had always known that Now that hand is drawn back it staves off the purring [?] becoming a shadow [?] canyons That started the yard in We're putting My loneliness and wondеr
Sand is churning Land is turning So I'm working Now I'm workingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
