The hollow light is still on the fields where the winter has warmed and the snows have drained away. And the hunter's cry is still on the air as the bullet flies home and the heart that's pierced with it. Still is racing. Still is racing, all alone.
The silver shoals of the light in the deep brush the glitterin skein where the great, dark body writhes. And the trembling jaw, the unfathoming sounds of leviathan, bound, as his heart, though weakening. Still is racing Still is racing, all alone. All alone.
You are racing. You are racing, alone.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.