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Sundays - Folk Song Added by Site Admin on 2007-01-26 15:41:25
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summer sky and a throat bone dry
and 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
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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
pale fading sun
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