man in a chair, outside in the air, rubbing on the leg which he broke three times falling from a tree which he could not climb man lays down, whispering names of towns, forgot about the one where he ran all night up to a river where he almost drowned
caterpillar crawls on the table beside him, a shiny short cloth with a shaggy trim memories have never got to up close approach him twenty white tents on a yellow lawn
man on his feet, wrapped in a cotton sheet and he's almost as tall as he was before, wrapped in a blanket on a sandy shore man watches birds, whispering made up words like the ones long ago then he plays the song and he's singing to himself as he walked along
caterpillar crawls on the table inside him, gonna grow wings at the break of dawn particles have lost lonely gifts await him twenty white tents on a yellow lawnTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
