"All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground
And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land
Trying to find, trying to find where I've been
(...)
Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails
Across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face
Along the straits of fear"
quarta-feira, 14 de agosto de 2013
Subscrever:
Enviar feedback (Atom)
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário