No more walks in the wood
|
The trees have all been cut down
|
And where once they stood
|
Not even a wagon rut
|
Appears along the path
|
Low brush is taking over
|
|
No more walks in the wood
|
This is the aftermath
|
Of afternoons in the clover fields
|
Where we once made love
|
Then wandered home together
|
Where the trees arched above
|
Where we made our own weather
|
When branches were the sky
|
Now they are gone for good
|
And you, for ill, and I
|
Am only a passer-by
|
|
We and the trees and the way
|
Back from the fields of play
|
Lasted as long as we could
|
No more walks in the wood
|
|
-----------------
|
No More Walks In The Wood
|
| Eagles |
