summer sky and a throat bone dry
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and the fields are all gold
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dusty lane with a song in my brain
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and it stoned me to my soul
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I climb higher move towards the fire.....blaze sun
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silver trees and a whispering breeze
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are my sight and my sound
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the thought of heaven couldnĄŻt drag me from the path
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when IĄŻm wandering here alone
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I climb higher move towards the fire.... so blaze sun
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watch until it dies slow falling from the sky
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pale fading sun
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-----------------
|
folk song
|
| Sundays |
