A whistling girl Among his flock of sheep Lay breathing backward rest assured Of Elijah and gods birds
It will fall to us It will fall to us
Inside the home the folk pine grow Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown Is all that glitters This terrible weakness
It falls to us It falls to us From his holy hill By his perfect will
Through the open eyes Soul tonight His yolk is easy and his burden light Kiss the sun lest he be angry And you perish in the way
The rivers of the sky are dry A roll up like a scroll Down below We tend to the forgetting Forgetting what we know The sun slips from your shoulder As you enter in the wood Without thought of thorns Without thought of thornsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
