The Sundays - Folk Song

Текст песни

Summer sky and a throat bone dry
and all the fields are all gold
dusty lane with a song in my brain
and it stoned me to my soul
I climb higher move towards the fire
blaze sun
silver trees and a whispering breeze
are my sight and my sound
the thought of heaven couldn’t drag me from the path
when I’m wandering here alone
I climb higher move towards the fire
so blaze sun
watch until it dies slow falling from the sky
place fading sun