Текст песни
and the car that got stuck
The sound of a shot in the dead of the night, and the river bank talks of the waters of march
It is nothing at all, the song of a thrush
it s the mud
It s the wind blowing free, the flesh and the bone
A fox in the brush, it s the wind blowing free
It s a little alone, the end of the tale
the beat of the road
It s the rest of a stump, a truckload of bricks in the soft morning light, the plan of the house
the song of a thrush
The end of the tale, a silvery glow, a knot in the wood
It s the end of the road, the sound of a shot in the dead of the night Henry, it s a little alone
And the car that got stuck, and the car that got stuck
The end of the line, it s the end of the strain
The flesh and the bone, the promise of spring
the flesh and the bone
And the river bank talks of the waters of march, it s the sun, it s the promise of life
It s the end of the road, it s the joy in your heart
the body in bed
the song of a thrush
The song of a thrush, the body in bed, it s the end of the road
A silvery glow, it s the mud, a slingshot s stone
it s a hunch
And the river bank talks of the waters of march, and the river bank talks of the waters of march, it is nothing at all
It s a sliver of glass, the sound of a shot in the dead of the night
it s the mud
it s the sun
It s a sliver of glass, the plan of the house March, it s the end of the strain
It s the promise of life, it s the end of the road
The sound of a shot in the dead of the night, it s the end of the road
it is nothing at all
A fox in the brush, it s a little alone
The bed of the well, the joy in your heart
the song of a thrush
The beat of the road, and the river bank talks of the waters of march
It s a beam it s a void, it s the mumps
It s the promise of life, a silvery glow
A fox in the brush, it s the rest of a stump Nicole, a bet the fange of a bow
It s the sun, it s the mud
a silvery glow
The joy in your heart, the sound of a shot in the dead of the night
The flesh and the bone, a truckload of bricks in the soft morning light, it is nothing at all
it s the promise of life
The promise of spring, the song of a thrush
The end of the tale, a knot in the wood of, the end of the line
A knot in the wood, the plan of the house
it s a hunch
A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush, the promise of spring
It s the end of the strain, and the river bank talks of the waters of march
and the car that got stuck
a fox in the brush
The wood of the wind, it s a rhyme
The sound of a shot in the dead of the night, it s the mud
The end of the line, it s a sliver of glass, a slingshot s stone
The beat of the road, the beat of the road, the sound of a shot in the dead of the night
The end of the tale, the body in bed, it s a hunch
the flesh and the bone