Текст песни GATHERING - Analog Park

In the garden, in the park, on a bench, I sit.
A newspaper floats on the breeze of this late summer.
It is coming my way,
I patiently wait.

I see the sign, it's on the road
and I think it's crazy

In the garden, of the park, on a bench, I watch.
Источник https://alllyr.ru/song24308
The sandy feet of the children.
Pearls of sweat run across their beautiful faces.

You see the sign, it's on the road
but I think you're crazy

You are, you are the sign
of my unrelief

As I easily get inner contact with myself,
It is time to reach out.
To find something that isn't there,

You see the signs, they're on the road
but I think it's crazy

0 из 5 Оценок: 0.